Hunters and Time
by alyssianagrace
Summary: After Hazel reaches 97 years of age, she decides that she's old enough to be out on her own in the universe. And who better to escape to than her Uncle Bobby? *Especially* if it pleases her over-protective parents. But what they don't know won't make them regenerate, even if it has something to do with a certain Dean Winchester... Now complete & sequel up! Somebody to You
1. Adulthood

**Hola chillens! This is a rewrite, because I wasn't happy with the way I did some things. This will also be posted separately, and the original story will be taken down when I'm done posting all the rewritten chapters on here. :) So, yeah, any questions, comments, concerns, please review!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter One: Adulthood<span>

"Oi," I try to get the cop's attention. "I'd like my one phone call, please. I get a phone call, don't I?"

The balding man in his fifties (I'd assume, I'm rubbish at human ages) turns his head and bores into my blue eyes with his grey ones, chilling me to my bones (which is very hard to do, but, then again, according to my dad I'm still a little girl. complete rubbish, I tell you).

"M-may I call someone to pick me up?" I stutter once.

He nods, his double chin rippling, and hauls himself out of the spinney desk chair. Reaching for a ring of keys on his belt, he takes his time finding the right one and unlocks the cell I'm in. Then, I'm led back to his desk like an animal, his hands on the chain connecting the handcuffs on my wrists.

The cop hands me the phone, with a gruff, "You've got five minutes."

With shaking hands, I punch in the familiar set of numbers and hold the phone close to my face, praying to whatever gods and goddesses that will hear me that he picks up.

_"Hello?"_

"Uncle Bobby, thank God," I crack a small smile at his voice. "Can you come get me?"

_"Where are you?"_

"Sioux Falls Police station," I tell him sheepishly.

_"What the hell did you do, ya damn idjit?"_

"_I_ didn't do anythin'! It's all a huge misunderstandin' that they can't seem to comprehend. Can you just come get me? And soon? The men in the cells keep lookin' at me like I'm a piece of meat."

_"How old do you look?"_

"Um, nineteen? Twenty? I get ages mixed up."

Uncle Bobby sighs into the phone. _"Give me five minutes."_ And then he hangs up. I hand the phone back to the cop and get forced back to my cell. Men whistle and cat-call as I walk by. So I settle in to wait.

The police station is made of awful grey coloured bricks. Three cells are in the bullpen area, five men in one, and me in the farthest one; the middle is empty. The men are very muscular; I suspect some sort of gang affiliation. They keep looking at me.

Three minutes later (ten quid says he broke several driving laws and disregarded speed limit signs), a very irate looking Bobby Singer marches in. I hop up and press myself as close as I can to the outside world, clutching the cold bars with my hands.

"Where the hell is my niece?" he growls.

"Uncle Bobby!" I beam, catching his eye. He looks absolutely pissed.

"Why is my niece in a goddamn jail cell?"

"Calm down, Singer-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Jody! Let her out so I can take her home."

"I can't do that, Bobby," 'Jody' says calmly.

"Why the hell not?" I ask. "I haven't done anythin' wrong!"

"You were found in a jewelry store locked from the inside!" the balding male cop accuses.

"S'not like I _stole_ anythin', innit? This is what I've had to put up with for the past hour, Uncle Bobby. I'm _bored_!" I hit my head on the bars and close my eyes.

"Can you let her out of there before she hurts herself for her own amusement? She's done it before."

"I'd get _myself_ out of here, but Deputy Dumbarse over there," I point to a different woman, one with blonde hair sitting at a desk, "took my vortex manipulator! Yeah, lady, I'm talkin' 'bout you!"

"Shut up," Bobby snaps at me, "or I'll leave you here!"

"As a favour, Bobby, -though to you or to us, I'm not sure- I'll let you take her home. We haven't formally arrested her yet."

"Thank you, Jody."

"Though," she continues, "I'd recommend getting her checked by a shrink. She's been spouting all sorts of crazy since we picked her up."

"I'm not crazy!" I protest.

"Will do, Jody."

The fat, balding police officer with more than one chin hauls himself out of his desk chair yet again, causes several mini-earthquakes coming to my cell, and leads me out like an animal _yet again_, pulling me by the chain connecting my cuffs together. The woman Bobby calls Jody unlocks my cuffs and I rub my poor, now-red wrists.

"Thank you for the lovely police brutality today. I'll take my stuff back, now," I say sarcastically.

"Go wait in the truck," Uncle Bobby orders, "and watch your mouth. You get arrested again, I ain't bailin' your sorry ass out."

* * *

><p>I wait in the truck.<p>

* * *

><p>Uncle Bobby comes out ten-something minutes later, an evidence bag in one hand, and my duffel in the other.<p>

"Thank the goddess, you got my duffel," I tell him with a smile. "That's my ten metre one."

He drops the duffel in the bed of the truck and ties it down, then hands me the evidence bag with my personal effects. My black eyeglasses (which I slide on), iPhone 7C (special ordered TARDIS blue with a hard, clear case; photos of me and Mum and Dad, Uncle Jack and Ianto, me and Uncle Jack, and Mum and Dad in the case's picture slots), ear buds, TARDIS key on a chain (like Mum used to wear hers), my red sonic screwdriver that Dad helped me make when I was about thirty-five, psychic paper in my own black billfold, vortex manipulator, and a completely normal ink pen.

"Where's your folks?" Bobby asks as he starts the truck and drives towards his house, one of the few places I feel comfortable enough in to call 'home'.

"Dad's travellin', Mum's in her cell."

"That doesn't explain why you're here all alone."

"Bobby, you make it sound like I'm a little girl," I turn and smile at him. "I'm nearly a century-ager, I'm old enough to be out in the universe by myself."

"Yeah?" he says sceptically.

I roll my eyes. "Ninety-seven. So I calmly explained to my dad that I was old enough to be out on my own, and he and Mum made me promise to stay on Earth. Loads more people on the List here."

The List. Also known as The List of People the Doctor and River Song Trust Their Daughter With. Well, more like a chart or table, really. It's got name, way of contact, start year, end year, and where they live and between what years. The List is in Gallifreyan, so that the people on the List can't see when they die (which is usually the end year, unless there's a big fight or something that prevents me visiting).

"Not even mentionin' the time we're in. Most people on the List are on this planet in this decade," I continue. "How long's it been since you've seen me?"

"'Bout ten years, give or take a few months."

_Shit._

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby."

He waves me off, "Nah, s'fine."

"So, what's happened in ten years, give or take a few months, in the wonderful world of Bobby Singer?"

* * *

><p>"What killed Rumsfeld?" I gasp.<p>

"_Somethin'_, that's for damn sure."

"Well, Uncle Bobby's house isn't Uncle Bobby's house without a guard dog. C'mon. Take us to the pound."

"Why the pound?"

"'Cause pet stores have prissy, spoilt dogs. _We_ want a lean, mean, lovable killin' machine," I tell him matter-of-fact. He laughs but does what I say; instead of driving straight to Singer Salvage, he takes a left back onto the main road. "We should also go to the market and buy some Skittles.

* * *

><p>We do go to the market, but not to get Skittles. To get adult dog food (I won't settle for anything less than a two-year-old), a dog dish, and a water dish. And food, y'know, for people.<p>

"Did you know, on New Savannah, there's Catkind? They're humanoid with cat features, like fur, cat ears, cat nose, and whiskers. Then they go to New Earth and become Cat Nuns and help people."

"That's cool," he says distractedly. "You still like to cook, right?"

"Yeah, if you'll let me take over your kitchen. I'll cook _and_ bake."

"Kid, you can take over my kitchen anytime," he promises, mussing up my really short dark red hair.

"Not the hair! It took _forever_ this mornin' to get it to lay out like this!" I protest, making him laugh. "I'm a puffball, aren't I?"

"Sorry, kid," he chuckles. I roll my eyes and pull out a black beanie I swiped earlier from my duffel.

"You're not sorry, Uncle Bobby. Now you definitely owe me Skittles."

Uncle Bobby groans. "Fine. We'll get some at checkout."

I take the trolley from him and start dumping different items in it: flour, sugar, eggs, pie crusts, apples, cherries, ice cream (strawberry cheesecake ice cream, because why not) and anything else I think we'll need.

"Just remember, Uncle Bobby, when your credit card bill gets _really_ high, it's because _you_ gave me free reign of the trolley."

"Don't sweat it, kid. It'll all get eaten one way or the other."

He says that _now_.

* * *

><p>At the pound, there's tons of dogs, and nearly all of them have those 'pick me' eyes.<p>

"Need any help?" a volunteer that looks to be in high school with his blonde hair tied back in a ponytail asks me.

"No, thanks, I think I have an idea of what I'm lookin' for," I wave him off kindly.

"Okay, if you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

"Hey, what do you think, kid?" Uncle Bobby walks towards me. The irritating volunteer walks away as my uncle makes his way to me.

"They all have those 'pick me, pick me' eyes," I frown.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"I don't want one like that. They're too eager. I want one that's given up, one that thinks he's never gonna get picked. No 'pick me' eyes."

"That makes sense," he agrees with me, wrapping a loose arm around my shoulders.

I glance around the cages before shutting my eyes and try to tune out all the different pitched barking. None of that barking nonsense; no voices, just the... aura (ha, that sounds so lame) of the different dogs. Animals from Earth are more open to spontaneous consensual psychic linking than anyone or anything else on planet.

And then there is one.

My blue eyes snap open.

"That one," I walk to the end of the pathway of concrete, passing black chained fences and gates stretching from top to bottom. Standing in front of a cage at the very end, I take it all in.

There's a clipboard, like all the other cages, that lists the dog's information.

_Rex. Male. Three years old. Doesn't get along with other dogs, cats, animals, or people. Aggressive._

'Rex' is a golden retriever, and he looks at me with sad brown eyes. He lays in a chewed up bed on the concrete floor, pieces of rubber scattered randomly about.

"Uncle Bobby! Can we get this one?" I call to him; he hasn't moved an inch. I pull out a plastic bag full of dog treats from my pocket.

"Hey, wait, I wouldn't-" a different male volunteer shouts to me as I open the bag and stick a treat through the hole. Rex hauls himself wearily up from his bed and walks slowly towards me and the treat, sitting on his haunches before partaking.

"Good boy," I beam. "You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?"

"Hey, lady, seriously, that dog is mean," the volunteer that yelled at me jogs over. "That's why he's in a cage by himself."

"This dog?" I ask sceptically, kneeling down and sticking my fingers through the holes in the metal, much to the human's protests. Rex (I'm so changing his name later, he doesn't even respond to it for the Goddess's sake) licks my fingers and rubs against me with his head. "Ooh, sweetheart, you need a bath and a good teeth cleanin', don't you?" I coo sweetly at the flea-ridden animal. "Uncle Bobby, come look at 'im!"

"I-I've never seen him act like this," the volunteer -one quick look at his name sticker reveals his name to be Jeff- stutters. "He's usually foaming at the mouth right about now."

"No, he just needed to wait for the right person."

"You want this one?" Bobby walks up to us.

"Little TLC, a good bath, an' some good old fashioned sleep on the end of a bed an' I guarantee this one will work _just_ fine for what we need, Uncle Bobby. Lean, mean, lovable killin' machine," I repeat my words from two hours ago, at the market.

"Your gig, kid," Uncle Bobby repeats.

"But I can get him?" I turn and smile at him.

"You sure you want him?" Jeff interrupts. "I can show you a number of other dogs."

"I want this one," I say, hard and clipped. "_This one_ doesn't have the 'pick me' eyes. He's just a big, misunderstood softie if you ask me."

"Okay then," he gives up. "Saving him from euthanization tomorrow, anyway."

"Then that's another reason why we're takin' 'im home."

* * *

><p>As soon as he was out of that place, his big orange-red tail started wagging.<p>

* * *

><p>A few days later, and a lot of progress made.<p>

Rex's name was changed to Cooper. 'Rex' may be badarse, I'll give it that, but I didn't like it. Anyway. I hosed Cooper down with the green garden hose as soon as he leaped out of the truck. Bobby took my nearly weightless duffel in and dropped it into my room. Then, after drying him off (and getting soaked when he shaked his fur by himself), I brushed his teeth (and told him to quit with that growling nonsense). Then, I fed him. And, after a long day, I crawled into my bed and Cooper fell asleep at the end of it.

Next day was training him, as was the day after that. And the day after that. Which went over well, if I do say so myself. Uncle Bobby was impressed. Cooper knows how to sit, wait, stay, lay down, time for breakfast/dinner, go outside, go get it (no, not that, smart one), bring me whatever, time to go, attack, disarm, take it down; pretty much you name it, he knows it. He's rather smart. It helps that I'm, well, what I am.

Yesterday and today finds me deep in the bottom of my ten metre duffel bag. I'm attaching climbing handles on the south wall, organizing the shit into proper drawers on the north wall, and making sure the teleport pad doesn't come loose again. (Teleport pad isn't big/powerful enough to transport life forms, just supplies.)

"Bobby!" I shout. "Can you hand me a crosshead screwdriver?"

"Hold on," I hear him say faintly.

"C'mon, Uncle Bobby, I'm nearly done!"

"Would you wait five seconds? Idjit."

I wait about five _minutes_, literally hanging there. Becoming bored and wanting to finish, I let the silver climbing handle hang from the one screw I attached on earlier; using the rope I tied around a chair covered in books and cinder blocks (so I'm not stuck in there), I pull myself up so my head is sticking out of the duffel.

"Oh," I say as I see Bobby talking with two unfamiliar wounded men, who all fall silent and stare as soon as I speak. "Hello."

It's silent for about two more beats, before the taller one (they're both pretty damn tall) speaks. "Bobby," he says slowly, still looking at me. "Why is there a girl in a duffel bag on the floor?"

"I think the better question is 'why are there two men bleeding in the front room?'" I counter.

"Excellent questions," the shorter (and I say that lightly, they're both freakishly tall) of the two waves off, clutching his chest. "Got any whiskey?"

"Yeah, sit down," Uncle Bobby snaps into action, walking to the kitchen.

"Do I get some?" I haul myself out of the duffel and follow him.

"Hell no!"

"Why not? Jack lets me drink with him!"

"Yeah, and you and I both know how _responsible_ Jack Harkness is," Bobby scoffs.

"Mum lets me drink with her," I try.

"Your mother lets you drink _wine_ so she doesn't have to drink alone, and she's occasionally an escaped convict. _No._"

"But I'm older than twenty-one!"

"Then take your fake ID and go get some yourself!"

"Tsk, you're so mean to me," I pout good-naturedly, clicking my tongue at the beginning. "You have to sleep sometime, old man!"

"Who are _you_ callin' old? You're one to talk!"

"You're _so mean_ to me!" I crack up, and he does, too.

"Hey, _you're_ the one makin' a dent in my credit card, kid!"

"Now, y'see, you _talk_ like you're annoyed, but you don't _sound_ annoyed," I keep egging at him.

"Damn idjit," he mutters.

"You love me," I wave off. "Okay, so, what can I do?"

"Dean looks worse off," Bobby gestures to the man clutching his ribs, blood seeping from the wound. "I'll deal with Sam over here. And no flirting, womanizer."

"Who do you think I am, Bobby?" he -Dean- pretends to be offended.

"I _know_ who you are, boy," he growls out. "That's the point."

"Move your hand, let me see," I order, bringing attention back to the matter at hand. Humans are so fragile compared to someone like me.

"Slave driver," Dean accuses. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Hazel. Nice to meet you. Now move that hand."

"Hazel, meet Dean and Sam Winchester. Boys, Hazel," Bobby introduces.

"How do you know each other?" Sam asks as Uncle Bobby pulls something out of his leg with tweezers.

"I crash landed in his backyard about ten years ago, give or take a few months," I say as I tug on Dean's tan and muscular arm. He finally moves his hand, and blood pours out of the knife wound, drenching his shirt even more. "Damn, what the hell happened to you? That's gonna need stitches. Take that off, put pressure on that, and come sit down in the kitchen where the light is."

"Crash _landed_?"

"Long story. Sit."

He does what I say, wincing when he clunks into the chair. I grab a towel, a needle, and some stitching from a drawer under the stove. Then a different bottle of whiskey. I kneel down so I can work better.

"You a doctor?" Dean asks.

"No. But my dad is, and so's our friend, Martha. She lived with us for a while."

"What was that Bobby said about your mom?"

I coax his hand away and he hisses in pain when I dab at the wound with the white towel, soaking up the blood.

"Sorry, sorry. Um, she's in prison. Didn't do anythin' wrong, though; it's a long story. What the bloody hell happened to you? Did you get mugged or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'," he grits out, and I hand him the bottle of whiskey. He takes three healthy swigs and sets the glass bottle on the table with a shaky hand. "Thanks."

"Mmm, not done, yet, sweetheart."

"Make it quick."

"I'll try my best," I reassure him, cleaning all the dry blood. "This is gonna sting."

"Just do it." I open the whiskey bottle and pour it on the three-inch long one-inch wide wound, and he clenches his teeth tight to keep from screaming.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I have to clean it so you don't get an infection; I'm sorry!" I apologise frantically. I don't like seeing people hurt, even if I've just met them. _Especially_ if I'm the one causing them pain. I'm like my mum in that way. Dad, too. I make quick work of cleaning the gash, the whiskey turning red with his blood as it soaks his jeans and runs onto the floor. After I sterilize the needle and thread, I hand him the bottle.

"Son of a _bitch_ that hurt!" he swears in between gulps.

"M'sorry, m'almost done," I tell him.

"I know. This isn't my first time gettin' sliced 'n diced."

"What the _hell_ d'ya _do_ for a livin'?" I ask incredulously as I make my first stitch.

"What do _you_ do for a living?" he counters.

"I help people," I say simply. My mobile goes off, the ringtone I have set for my dad blaring through the room and into the next.

"You gonna get that?"

"Nope. M'gonna let it go to voicemail, an' have 'im kill me for it later. Hold still."

"You know who it is?"

"S'the ringtone for my dad. It can wait. _Hold still._"

"So, how long have you been here with Bobby?" he changes the subject.

"Um, five days? Six? Somethin' like that. M'almost done, and it would go faster if you would _hold still_."

"I'm not moving!"

"You _are_! Y'keep squirmin', just _quit_ that!"

"Hold still, Dean. Let the kid finish," Bobby walks in with Sam. Sam sits at the table across from me and Dean, while Uncle Bobby raids his full refrigerator.

"You two gonna tell me what happened, or keep me in the dark? 'Cause _no way_ was that a mugging," I say as I tie off the stitches. "Stay." I get back on my feet only to kneel down again under the kitchen sink. I grab a bandage and some medical tape. "Bobby, do you think he's concussed?"

"Nah, he's got a thick skull, why?"

I hop up and smack Dean on the back of the head.

"Ow!"

"Quit lookin' at my arse!"

Sam holds back a laugh while I hold the white bandage in place with one hand and apply strips of tape with the other.

"I can't help but look at the finer things in life, especially when one is a hot nurse stitching me up," he smiles flirtatiously.

"I'm gonna smack you again," I warn, with a small smile on my face. "There, done. Go put a button down or somethin' on. An' if you pull those stitches, I'll smack you."

"Violent, much? That's okay, I like it rough."

"Oh, god, is he _always_ like this?" I moan.

"Worse. He's actually acting pretty tame right now," Sam informs me.

"Wonderful." I take a swig of whiskey before Uncle Bobby can stop me, and grab my phone and sweater from the counter. "I'm going to go out and call my dad back before he blows up the planet."

"Don't take too long, kid, it's cold out there," Bobby tells me.

"I'll be fine, Uncle Bobby," I smile reassuringly and head out to the deck. Before I can dial my dad, however, my mum calls.

_"Would you like to tell me why your father is freaking out?"_

"M'fine, Mum, I just didn't hear my mobile phone go off. Tell him not to worry."

_"You can tell him yourself when we're done talking. How are you?"_

"M'great, Mum. I'm having fun out here."

_"An' you're where?"_

"At Uncle Bobby's. Near the end of 2008, I think. Time sense is a little off."

_"When was the last time you slept?"_ she says in an accusatory tone.

"I've been busy!"

_"Ugh, you are too much like your father, sometimes, I swear. Have you at least been eating?"_

"Yes, Mother, I've been eating. I lost track of time. Been working on my duffel. Putting handles in an organizing everythin' in it."

_"Don't you go anywhere without that duffel."_

"I know, Mum. I won't. An' I'll call you if I leave Bobby's."

_"Damn right you will! Go give him the phone for me, sweetie, I wanna talk to him."_

"_Mum_," I moan. "You can't just let me be?"

_"No, I _can't_. You're my _daughter_, Lyra, it's my _job_ to worry about you."_

"I know."

_"Hey, I love you."_

"I love you, too, Mum."

_"Go give the phone to Bobby. An' I'll take care of your dad later."_

"Okay. Thanks, mum."

_"S'no problem, sweetie."_ I walk back inside, pass Sam and Dean still at the table (Dean with a shirt on).

"Okay, Mum, here he is. I love you." I hand the phone to Bobby.

"Hey, River," he says into the phone. "How's jail?"

"_Bobby_," I groan. "Don't get 'er started. She'll never shut up."

He taps a button on my mobile, putting her on speaker.

_"-are cold, water's drippin' from the ceilin', I got Tased by a Judoon for callin' him a bastard in Galactic Base an' moved to solitary, an' I've been sexually assaulted by the guard on the night shift. On top of _that_, my husband hasn't visited me in a month!"_

"Mum, you are so full of crap," I laugh. "Don't listen to a _word_ she says, Uncle Bobby. That's _exactly_, _word for word_ what she told me an' Amy last time we talked to her."

_"Sweetie, let the adults talk!"_

"Yeah, see, an' now she's blowin' me off. Love ya, too, Mum!"

_"Go to bed, sweetie!"_

Bobby laughs and takes her off speaker. "You two are hilarious."

"M'glad we amuse you, Bobby." I begin ignoring him and head to the fridge, where I have a small container of some chicken and potatoes from earlier today. "You boys can help yourselves, there's tons of food here."

"Yeah? You cook, too, 'cause Bobby can't cook for shit," Dean asks.

"I heard that!"

"Good in the kitchen, shit at cleanin' up after."

"Please tell me you make pie."

I smile as I sit down in between them, my food warmed up and a fork in my hand.

"No pie for you, Dean Winchester. Gotta earn it."

"Dammit, you're gonna make life hard, aren't you?"

"S'my job," I laugh in between bites. Sam, laughing, hops up and walks towards the fridge.

Bobby hangs up my mobile phone and smacks it on the table in front of me.

"What was your mother just telling me about a _pill_, young lady?" he accuses.

And everything falls silent.

"M'actually not that young anymore, Uncle Bobby-"

"Under my roof, _I'm_ in charge. Answer the question."

_Dammit._

"Bobby-"

"Tell me."

"But-"

"Hazel."

I glance at Sam (who's leaning against the counter) and Dean (who's sitting next to me), and back at my 'uncle' with fear in my eyes.

"Trust me, they won't do nothin', kid. Now, you gotta tell me," he says, softer.

I take a deep breath and blow it out.

"It blocks timelines; well, it blocks me seeing them. If I can't see them, I can't act on them, and, more importantly, seeing timelines when you're like me... it's bad."

"Okay, define 'bad'."

"'Bad' as in, uh... well, one incident is okay. Two, and I get a migraine. Three, I can get physically sick. Four, I pass out, and it takes longer than usual for me to wake up. Five in a row, well, I've never gotten that far, but Dad and Owen have a theory."

"Wait a minute, are you saying that you can see _timelines_?" Dean looks at me with a look of disbelief. "Timelines."

"Yeah," I say in a small voice.

"Don't even think about it," Bobby warns them, pulling me to him.

"Think about what? Uncle Bobby, what are they gonna do?"

"Calm down, Haze, they ain't gonna do nothin'. You've been up for three days straight -don't even try to lie to me about it- and it's late. Why don't you go on up to bed?"

"Fine. Good night."

"Night."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

* * *

><p><strong>FYI sexual assault is no joke, and River knows that. She's just bored and, well, River. And she misses the Doctor *two heart emoticon things because ff is dumb and won't let me type them out*<strong>

**Please review!**


	2. Surprises pt 1

**New chapter!**

**Okay, so **giddyfan** asked me if all the same rules apply. Yes, and no. Some things are the same, some aren't. You'll just have to wait and see!**

**This is the episode **Let's Kill Hitler** from **Doctor Who**. Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me, even though I wish it did. I do own Hazel, though.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Two: Surprises part one (LKH)<span>

"Mornin', sunshine," Dean laughs at me the next morning, in the same place I left him last night.

"Bite me," I snap back, heading straight for the coffee maker. My hair is a right mess, red locks sticking up every which way.

"Only if you really want me to."

"Can it, Winchester." I pour some grounds in the filter, take the pot to the sink, fill that up, and then dump the water into the other side. Then I put the pot back and switch the machine on.

"What are you?" he questions.

"Didn't take you long to ask," I scoff, leaning against the counter. "Let me guess, you tried lookin' me up after I went to bed?"

Hell of a poker face that man has. But I'm a Time Lord. I can read _anyone_.

"You did! M'flattered, really. Truly. So, what'd you find out?"

"Jackshit and red tape," he admits after a moment. "Somethin' called UNIT, another thing called 'torch wood', whatever the hell that is." He pronounces 'Torchwood' as two words instead of one.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I got my four hours," Dean waves off. The coffee maker beeps, and I walk towards it, stopping to grab my favourite mug from the sink and rinsing it out. It's a silver travel mug with a metallic shine, green and blue diamonds scribbled on, and a blue grip around it. Not TARDIS blue, but lighter.

"Coffee?" I offer.

"Definitely. Black's fine."

"You seem like a 'black coffee' kinda guy," I muse.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin' by it," I wave off as I try to grab him a mug from the freaking top shelf, standing on my tip toes and still can't reach it. "Quit snickering, Winchester. I'm _short_. It happens. Get your own damn mug an' your own damn coffee."

His snickering turns into full-on laughter, and I just flip him off the American way, one finger instead of two.

"I can't help it," he defends himself, hand on where his stitches are. "You're just so adorable."

"Yeah? Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"_You're_ bipolar this morning."

"Wait for her to have her coffee and she'll be fine. Mornin', kid," Bobby walks in and kisses the top of my head.

"Mornin', Uncle Bobby. You need to rearrange your cupboards."

"That's what you said yesterday mornin'. Remember what _I_ said?"

"Y'said 'get a step stool'," I frown, pouring liquid caffeine in my mug and adding french vanilla creamer and caramel syrup (from the fridge) and stirring it all together. I take a sip of the goodness and smile, sighing happily. "Mmm, this is good. I'll make some breakfast."

* * *

><p>A heaping panful of eggs, potatoes, and bacon later, and everyone in the house is fed. Even Cooper, who was lucky enough to lick the pans clean after eating his own food.<p>

"Okay, lemme look at those stitches, Winchester," I order, hopping down the stairs clean and refreshed from my shower.

"I'm _fine_, friggen mother hen, go bug Sammy," Dean frowns at me from the couch.

"_I'm_ fine, don't go bug me," Sam deflects, concentrating on something on his laptop, which is sitting on top of his long legs.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? You don't even know us."

"Dean," Bobby warns.

"I don't know why I care. Maybe it's because when we met, you had a big cut on your side! Not to mention the other injuries: cracked ribs, nasty scratch on forehead. An' don't you look at me like I'm the only one keepin' secrets, Dean Winchester!" I snap at him.

"_We're_ human, what the hell are _you_?"

"That's _enough_, boy!" Bobby snaps.

"You full-blooded _humans_, there's only two types! The ones that don't give a shit about what someone is, and the ones that _hurt_ people like me! Uncle Bobby told me that you were the good kind, that you wouldn't _care_ about what I was, but I guess he was _wrong_!"

Dean pulls a gun and aims it at me.

"You're not gonna shoot me," I laugh without humour. "An' even if you do, it isn't gonna do a damn thing."

"Hazel-" Bobby starts before I cut him off.

"I'm going out," I grab my light blue over-the-shoulder purse from a hook by the door, along with a black sweater. "I'll be back later." I walk out and slam the door, heading off the deck and through the salvage yard.

"Stay in Sioux Falls!" Bobby calls after me.

* * *

><p>"Freaking humans," I mutter under my breath in Gallifreyan, kicking a rock on the side of the dirt road to a place I know well, an old lake. "Bloody UNIT all over again. Bloody pretentious arseholes, think they own the damn universe. Bastards. I saved his fuckin' <em>life<em>, and _this_ is how he repays me? Ugh!" I pick up the rock and chuck it into the water. "Why did I even let him _get_ to me? _How_ did he get to me? Goddess, I can't even tell 'im -_them_- what I am, s'bloody pathetic is what it is." I find another rock and throw it as far as I can. "What m'I supposed to say? 'Hi, m'Hazel, an' I'm a Time Lord'? 'You've never heard of Time Lords 'cause there's only my parents an' me'? M'_such_ an _idiot_! God and Goddess!" I grab a handful and throw them, then slide down the great big tree onto my bum. I close my eyes and lean against it for about ten minutes, listening to the peace and quiet, until I hear footsteps.

"Go away, Uncle Bobby," I say with my eyes still shut. "I know I overreacted a bit, but that doesn't mean I wanna talk 'bout it. I just wanna be left alone."

"Bobby, uh," Dean says, clearing his throat. My eyes snap open to look at him. "Bobby told Sam and me you 'saved his life'."

"I heard those air quotes," I frown, closing my eyes again. He groans as he sits down next to me.

"Y'know, this is where _I_ would come out and hide when I wanted to get away from my dad. Almost drowned in that lake trying to save Sammy. Stupid ass went in too deep," he chuckles. "Bobby always threatened he was gonna fill it with concrete. Guess he never got around to that."

"You spend a lot of time here growin' up?" I ask him.

"Eh, some time but not a lot. How many times have you visited Bobby's?"

"Um, three, I think. Now, when we met, and 1998."

It falls silent. Me, leaning up against a tree, and Dean sitting next to me. Not close enough for us to touch, though. And not bad silence, either.

"I'm a hunter," he blurts after a few minutes.

"That's the big secret?" I open my eyes and look at him. "You're a hunter?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," I look back towards the lake.

"I don't think you understand. We don't hunt game. Sam and I, we hunt the supernatural."

_That_ got my attention. My blue eyes dart back to his hazel green ones.

"Like ghosts and monsters and demons and stuff? Those are real?"

"Yeah."

"Cool!"

"'Cool'? You believe me?" he asks incredulously.

"Well, yeah. That explains all the shit Bobby has all over his house. 'Decoration' indeed. Ha! I am _so_ gonna smack him."

"You believe me?" he repeats, this time the question is more like a statement.

"Trust me, when it comes to 'weird', I'll believe most anythin'. Come on," I stand up and hold out my hand. "I've got some explainin' of m'own to do."

* * *

><p>"Sam, can I borrow your computer?" are the first words out of my mouth when I'm through the door. The next, after dropping my purse on the coffee table are, "Robert Steven Singer, you're <em>such<em> a _liar_! 'Decorations', my arse!"

"You told her?" Sam asks, handing his laptop over.

"What was I supposed to do, Sam?" Dean counters, sitting near his younger brother with a groan.

"M'checkin' those stitches later, if you'll let me," I warn, pulling up the UNIT website and sitting in between them. There's two people I like in UNIT, but the rest of them are complete wankers. "An' don't think you're out of my reach, either, Sam Winchester. My 'mother henning' as you call it, has no bounds."

"Oh, lovely," he says sarcastically.

"Oi, be glad people care enough. Dammit, what's that access code?" I mutter to myself before digging through my purse for my UNIT badge. Once I find it, I flip it over and type the sixty digit code into the secure login field on the screen, then along with my username (hazelthetimelord) and password (which is none of your business) into the corresponding fields. "Blasted UNIT! What the hell d'ya mean, 'my permissions have been revoked'?"

"What's UNIT?" Sam asks.

"UNIT- stands for United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. There's two people in UNIT that I like, but the rest are bastards. Between UNIT and Torchwood, I'd pick Torchwood every time. Torchwood is nicer. Torchwood cares about the actual person, but UNIT only cares about the job and the case file. Sorry. Rabbit trail. You're welcome. M'gonna have to call the Brigadier later," I murmur, handing Sam his laptop and hopping up off the couch. "So, hunters, I bet you, um," I try to mentally convert quid to dollars, "three hundred dollars you've never met a creature like me."

"Come on now, Hazel, don't swindle them," Bobby walks in with Cooper trailing behind him, the man covered in grease.

"M'not 'swindlin' them. Wait, hold on. D'ya hear that?"

"Oh, boy," he moans.

"That sounds like the TARDIS!" I beam, darting out the door.

"The what?" Dean asks.

I'm out the door, down the stairs, and on the ground when the TARDIS finishes her landing sequence. And I wait, until my father pokes his head out, an impish smile on his face.

"Adventure day?" he asks.

"You can't leave me be? I'm ninety-seven years old, Dad. M'old enough to be on my own," I cross my arms.

His smile falls. "You're right. You're absolutely right."

"Dad. M'jokin'! Definitely, one hundred percent, adventure day!"

"Great! Fantastic! Geronimo!"

"_Wait_, wait, wait, wait, hold up _one_ second. Bobby! M'going out on an adventure!" I call.

"Take the boys with you!" he shouts back.

"Boys? What boys?" Dad asks, stepping out of the TARDIS.

"_Nothin'_, Dad! Just some friends of mine and Bobby's. You don't mind if they come along, do you, Daddy?" And, _bang!_ Full-force puppy dog eyes. Dad can _never_ say no to these, much as he says otherwise.

"Oh, all right. You can bring your friends."

"I love you, Dad," I beam at him.

"Love you, too."

"C'mon, boys! Adventure day!"

"What d'ya mean- what's that?" Sam walks out with Dean following him.

"How'd that get here?" Dean asks.

"Is that a fifties British police box?"

"Oh, look at them, they're so smart," Dad smiles fondly.

"Cut it out," I smack his arm. "It's not a police box. It just _looks_ like one," I tell the boys. "Broken chameleon circuit. Dad never got around to fixin' it."

"Oi, don't look at me like you hate it!"

"I never said I hated it! I just said you never got around to fixin' it. Well, come on in. We'll be back in about an hour, Bobby!" I raise my voice.

"Don't get 'em killed! I want them back in one piece!" he shouts from inside.

"Bobby? Bobby Singer?" Dad asks.

"Don't go an' pester 'im, old man. Leave it be. Get in the TARDIS."

"Ooh, she's gone for a week an' already she's bossy like her mother," he says cockily before bounding into the ship.

"Oi, I'm gonna smack you!" I lunge for him, but he hops into the TARDIS. "Come on in, make yourselves at home."

"Won't it be a little... tight?" Sam asks.

I smile, opening the doors completely. "You'll see."

"So, Lyra, lookit what I found in the paper," Dad holds up a copy of _T__he Leadworth Chronicle_ with a picture of a crop circle. Well, a 'crop circle' being 'Doctor' flattened down in the corn.

"Oh, lookit! They're _brilliant_! Look at _that_!" I laugh. "Has Torchwood seen this?"

"Yes, and Jack thinks it's abso-_lutely_ hilarious."

"Can you blame 'im?" I ask, sneaking off to the med bay to grab the canister of nanogenes. "It's pretty smart, you have to admit!"

"Yeah, okay, it's smart."

"An' you never answer your phone. So, we goin' to get Amy and Rory, too?"

"You can _never_ have too much adventurers!"

"What-what-what-" Sam stutters while Dean just stands there, mouth slightly agape.

"It's called the TARDIS," I smile. "T-A-R-D-I-S, stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"So, what, it's a-a, heh, a _spaceship_?"

"An' a time machine, too, yeah," I nod.

"So, what, you're an alien? Both of you?" Dean asks.

"Mmm-hmm. S'tha' a problem?"

"No," they say at the same time, making my smile grow.

"Great! Fantastic! Now, hope you don't mind." I open the canister of nanogenes towards the boys, and they swarm them.

"What the hell is that?" Sam exclaims, batting the nanogenes away.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean says, doing the same.

"Nanogenes! Gonna fix that right up, no more stitches, no more cracked ribs! Just give 'em a second. An' quit that! They're gonna _help_ you!"

"Scatter plotter?" Dad asks.

"Got it. Hit that button there," I tell my dad.

"Done. Oh, what about the-"

"Door release, already done. Haven't been gone that long, or are you forgetting that I've grown up here?" I give him a look.

"Nope, just checking your reflexes."

"Nanogenes should be done. How do you feel, boys?"

"What... what is this? What are you?"

"Time Lord, Dean. That's what we're called."

"Bit 'full of it' isn't it?" Sam asks.

"Well, _I_ didn't make it up. S'just what we're called."

"Bit pretentious."

"I didn't even know you knew that word, Dean," Sam gripes at his brother.

"No fightin'."

"We're here!" Dad beams, opening the door and holding the paper in one hand. He points to it as Amy and Rory get out of a tan car. "Seriously?"

"Well, you never answer your phone," Rory defends.

"Okay, you've had all summer. Have you found her? Have you found Melody?" Amy asks as she slams the car door.

"He found _me_!" I beam. "Hi!"

"Hi, sweetheart!" Amy smiles, enveloping me in a hug.

"What the hell; we've moved!" Dean exclaims.

"Who's that?" Rory asks.

"Space ship, Dean!" I roll my eyes.

"Lyra's problem, not mine. Permission?" Dad hands Rory the paper.

"Granted," Rory walks to me, letting Dad reassure Amy.

"Oi, don't read that! That's the future!" I tear it out of his hands.

"That's tomorrow!" he protests.

"Exactly! Now, quit lookin' over my shoulder!"

"Hang on," Rory takes it back out of my hands, "what's this bit?"

"That wasn't us," Amy frowns, running her finger through the line in the 'd', 'o', 'c', and 't' in 'Doctor'. Dad yanks the paper out of Rory's hands.

"Who are they?" Sam asks me.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, Amy Pond and Rory Williams, Hazel (that's me), and the Doctor," I introduce.

"Her last name is 'Williams', too, Hazel," Rory points out.

"Yes, okay, children, let's point out the significance of last names, shall we? Some people don't have one! What's that?" I look at the red car coming towards us. Amy, Rory, and Dad scream as it comes right at them, nearly hitting my TARDIS. "Oi!"

"Nice car, though," Dean says.

"No, not 'nice car'! It nearly hit the TARDIS! Not like it would've done any damage, but still!"

The woman gets out of the car and slams the door, looking down at my dad.

"You said he was funny. You never said he was hot."

"Mels!" Rory says.

"What are you doing, here?" Amy asks.

"Following you. What do you think?"

"Okay now _I_ have no idea what's going on," I frown.

"Join the club," Dean says.

"Um, where did you get the car?" Rory asks.

"It's mine...ish," Mels says.

"Are those sirens?" I ask. Mels looks at me with a fond smile on her face, puts one finger on her lips, and shushes me. And then it hits me. But, I keep my mouth shut, because, well, that's what she told me to do.

"Oh, Mels, not again," Amy says in what I call her 'mum' voice.

"You can't keep doin' this, you're going to end up in prison," Rory with his 'dad' voice. Which, actually, makes a lot of sense now.

"Sorry," Dad interrupts. "Hello. Doctor not following this. Doctor very lost. You never said I was hot?"

"Is that the phone box? The 'bigger on the inside' phone box?" Mels says excitedly, pointing to the box. "Oh, time travel, that's just brilliant. Yeah," she turns to Dad, leaning on the box, "I've heard a lot about you. I'm their best mate."

"Then why don't I know you? I danced with everyone at the wedding," he counters. "The women were all brilliant. The men a bit shy."

"I don't do weddings," she says, listening to the sirens as they come closer. "And that's me, out of time." She pulls a gun and aims it at my dad, who puts his hands up.

"Mels, what are you doing?"

"For God's sake!"

"I need out of here, now," she says, ignoring Amy and Rory's protests.

"Anywhere in particular?" Dad asks, his hands shaking.

"Let's see. You've got a time machine. I've got a gun. What the hell? Let's kill Hitler."

"I'm sorry, are you crazy?" I ask her, crossing my arms. I don't care _who_ she is, she should know better. "You can't go and kill Hitler. Time travel doesn't work that way."

"Oh, but it does today. Get in."

"You _can't_ go and kill Hitler! His death is a fixed point."

"Not today it isn't."

"Quit arguing! Lyra, just drop it and get in the ship!" Dad orders.

"You're siding with _her_?"

* * *

><p>"You shot it! You shot my TARDIS! You shot the console!"<p>

"It's your fault!"

"How is it my fault?"

"_You_ said guns didn't work in this place! _You said_ we were in a state of temporal grace!"

"That was a clever lie, you idiot! Anyone could tell that was a clever lie! The temporal grace unit has been broken for years!"

"Grab on to something!" I interrupt the two bickering. God, it's like they're married! "We're gonna crash!"

Amy screams as the TARDIS goes through a window and we're thrown to the floor.

"Out, out, out! Everybody out! Don't breathe in the smoke, just get out!" Dad darts out the doors.

"Where are we?" Amy asks.

"A room. A long room. I don't know what room. I haven't memorised every room in the universe yet, I had yesterday off. Mels! Don't go in there! Bad smoke! Don't breathe the bad, bad smoke. Bad, deadly smoke, because _somebody shot my TARDIS_!"

"Doctor, this guy, I think he's hurt," Rory says, kneeling next to a man on the floor.

"Okay, is everybody out?" I ignore him, counting heads with my fingers.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Dean asks angrily.

"Not part of the plan, that's for sure! New rule, no guns in the TARDIS!"

"Ooh! Hello. Sorry, is this your office? Had a sort of collision with my vehicle. Fault's on both sides, let's say no more about... it," Dad trails off.

"What's up?" Amy says before dropping her voice down. "No, it can't be, Doctor."

"Thank you, whoever you are. I think you have just saved my life," Hitler says.

"Is that Hitler?" Sam asks.

"Give me your guns," I mutter so Dad can't hear. "Do it!"

They hand them over, and I chuck them in the TARDIS and seal the door.

"Yes, that's Hitler, no, you can't kill him."

"What did he mean, we just saved his life? We could not have just saved Hitler," Amy asks Dad.

"You see? Time travel. It never goes to plan," Dad says.

"This box. What is it?" Hitler asks.

"Don't touch it," I smack Hitler's hand away.

"It's a police telephone box from London, England. That's right, Adolf, the British are coming," Dad smiles menacingly.

"No! Stop him!" Hitler points behind my dad to the man who was on the floor. He draws his gun and shoots, but the man doesn't fall. Rory punches him in the jaw, and Hitler drops his gun, which Rory picks up and cocks.

"Sit still. Shut up."

"Woo hoo, Rory!" I beam.

"Are you okay?" Amy goes to the man.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I think he missed," he waves off.

"He was going to kill me."

"Shut up, Hitler!" Rory snaps.

"Rory, take Hitler and put him in that cupboard over there. Now. Do it," Dad orders.

"Right. Putting Hitler in the cupboard. Cupboard. Hitler, Hitler, cupboard. Come on."

"But I am the Fuhrer!"

"Right, in you go."

"Who are you?"

Rory shuts the doors in his face.

"Are you okay?" Dad asks the man.

"I wanna know how he's still up and about," I ask, standing next to my dad but not entirely in the man's face.

"Oh, I..." and he faints.

"I think he just fainted," Rory states the obvious.

"Yes, that was a faint," Dad muses. "Perfect faint."

"Hitler didn't miss, I was standin' right next to 'im, much as I hate to say it."

"What's going on?" Sam asks as he and Dean join our little circle.

"Hitler's in the cupboard. Hitler shot him," I point at the man on the floor, "and didn't miss. The bullets ricocheted."

"Mels?" Amy turns towards her.

"Hitler," she says, pressing her hands on her abdomen.

"What about him?" Dad asks.

"Lousy shot."

"Mels? Mels!" Amy, Rory, and my dad dart to her.

"Right, we've got to stop the bleeding," Rory goes into nurse mode.

"How bad is it, Rory, what can we do? Hazel! Go get the med kit from the TARDIS!" Amy orders, but I stay put.

"Just keep her conscious. Stay with us, Mels!"

"Hey, look at me. Just hold on," Dad talks to her.

"She'll be fine," I wave off to my boys.

"She's been shot!" Sam argues.

"It's, well, complicated. Just trust me."

"I used to-dream about you. All those stories Amy used to tell me," Mels smiles.

"What stories? Tell me what stories? Vampires in Venice? That's a belt!" Dad keeps her talking.

"When I was little, I was gonna marry you."

"Good idea, let's get married. You stay alive and I'll marry you. Deal? Deal?"

"Shouldn't you ask my parents' permission?"

"As soon as you're well, I'll get them on the phone," Dad smiles.

"No need, Dad," I pipe up.

"Lyra's right. Might as well do it now. Since they're both right here. Penny in the air."

"See, what happened, was, Amy and Rory had a little girl," I start to explain. "But the little girl got stolen at Demon's Run."

"Penny drops," Mels says, all ready glowing from regeneration energy.

"What the hell is going on?" Rory demands.

"An' that's the little girl," I say.

"Back, back, back, back, get back!" Dad pulls on their hands and yanks Amy and Rory to the other side of the room, to where we are.

"Last time I did this, I..." Mels stands up, "I ended up a toddler. In the middle of New York."

"Okay, Doctor, explain what is happening, please," Amy nearly begs.

"Mels, short for..."

"Melody," Mels nods.

"Yeah, I named my daughter after her," Amy says.

"You named your daughter... after your daughter," Dad finishes.

"It took me years to find you two," Mels continues. "I'm so glad I did. And you see? It all worked out in the end, didn't it? You got to raise me after all."

"You're Melody?" Amy gasps.

"But, if she's Melody, that means-"

"Shut up, Dad. I'm focusing on a dress size." And the regeneration energy takes over, flaming out of her arms and head, and she screams.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	3. Surprises pt 2

**Okay, guys, you have _no idea_ how lucky you are. Two chapters in two days! That has _never_ happened! I blame Daylight Savings Time.**

**So, I watched a commercial for **Selfie**, **Karen Gillan**'s new show. It says that she just starred in **Guardians of the Galaxy**, but what about all her time at **Doctor Who**? Hello?!**

**And that part one of the season eight finale! *faints* I'm not gonna say anything but oh. my. god. Excuse me while I asdfghjkl**

**Not beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Um, part two of **Let's Kill Hitler**! I own nothing but Hazel:(**

**Please review! Even if it's to tell me you hate it (which I hope you wouldn't, but, eh, well), or if there's something I can fix. Like I said. NO BETA. Sad day.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three: Surprises part two (LKH)<span>

"Right," Mum (who was Mels, but not so much anymore) pants. "Let's see, then. Ooh, it's all going on down there, isn't it? The hair! Ooh, the hair!" She darts over to a mirror. "It just doesn't stop, does it? Look at that. Everything changes. Oh, but I love it. I love it! I'm all sort of... mature." She props a leg up on a chair, and Dad covers my eyes, as well as his own. "Hello, Benjamin," she coos.

"Who's Benjamin?" he whispers.

"No idea," I whisper back.

"The teeth. The teeth! Oh, look at them!" She darts over to my dad and gets really close to his face. "Watch out, that bowtie. Excuse me, you lot. I need to weigh myself."

And with that, she skips off.

"Oh, my god, I'm scarred for life!" I protest.

"What just happened?" Dean asks.

"That's... Melody," Amy says slowly.

"That's my mother," I lean on the wall and slide down. "M'scarred for life. M'scarred for _life_!"

"It's River Song," Rory says.

"Who's River Song?" Mum comes back into the room.

"Spoilers," Dad says, inadvertently being the reason she uses that word in her future.

"Spoilers? What spoilers?"

"Maybe a bad adventure to take the boys on for their first," I muse, standing next to Amy.

"Hang on, just something I have to check." And she's gone again.

"Does anybody else find this day just a bit difficult?" Rory asks with a wavering tone. "I'm getting this sort of banging in my head."

"Yeah, I think that's Hitler in the cupboard," Amy says.

"That's not helping."

"This isn't the River Song we know yet. This is her right at the start. Doesn't even know her name," Dad muses.

"Oh, that's _magnificent_! I'm going to wear _lots_ of jodhpurs."

"Mother, can you keep in mind that I'm _right_ here? _Right_ here," I moan. "No jodhpurs. No getting in Dad's personal space. And, for the love of god, keep your damn shirt up! Oh, my god, I sound like Dad."

"Oh, look at you, sweetie, aren't you just adorable! How old are you?"

"Ninety-seven, Mum. Quit messing with my hair!" I take her hands and force them at her sides.

"Well, now, enough of all that. Down to business." And she pulls Hitler's gun, yanking me behind her.

"Oh, hello. I thought we were getting married?" Dad asks, not as fearful this time around.

"I told you! I'm not a wedding person!"

"Doctor, what's she doing?" Rory asks.

"What she's programmed to."

"And where did she get the gun?"

"'Hello, Benjamin'."

"You noticed." She fires, but no bullets come out.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam asks.

"Family drama, bad adventure for your first one, I'll explain everything later!"

"Of course I noticed," Dad smiles, walking towards her. "As soon as I knew you were coming, I tidied up a bit."

She drops the gun and reaches into her jacket. "I know you did."

"I know you know."

Instead of pulling a gun, she pulls a... banana? Dad must've turned the fruit bowl when she reached into it.

"Goodness, is killing you going to take all day?"

"Why?" he takes the banana and tosses it to me. "You busy?"

"Oh, I'm not complaining." She grabs a letter opener and Dad sonics it out of her hand.

"If you were in a hurry, you could have killed me in the cornfield."

"We'd only just met! I'm a psychopath, I'm not rude." She grabs the gun in the fruit bowl, aims it at Dad, and fires. Amy screams. He holds up the magazine and blows.

"You are _not_ a psychopath!" Amy tells her daughter. "Why would she be a psychopath?"

"Oh, Mummy, Mummy, pay attention. I was trained and conditioned for one purpose. I was born to kill the Doctor."

"Demon's Run," Dad explains. "Remember? This is what they were building. My bespoke psychopath."

"I'm all yours, sweetie," she pecks his lips.

"Only River Song gets to call me that."

"And who's River Song?"

"An old friend of mine."

"Stupid name." She walks away from him and to the window sill. "Oh, look at that! Berlin on the eve of war. A whole world about to tear itself apart."

"Mother, get _down_ from there! You can't regenerate twice in that short of time, it won't work!"

"Don't worry about me, sweetie. It's my kind of town. Mum, Dad, don't follow me, and, yes, that is a warning."

"No warning for me, then?" Dad asks.

"No need, my love. The deed is done. And so are you."

"Dad!" I catch him as he collapses.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Amy asks frantically.

"What have you done? River!"

"Oh, River, River, River. More than a friend, I think."

"What have you done?" he shouts at her.

"It was never going to be a gun for you, Doctor. The man of peace, who understands every kind of warfare except, perhaps, the cruellest. Kiss, kiss." And she hops out the window after blowing him a kiss.

"Dad, what did she do? What did she do?"

"Poisoned me, but I'm fine. Well, no, I'm dying. But I've got a plan."

"What plan?" Amy asks him.

"_Not_ dying, see? Fine."

"That's not a plan!" I protest.

"What do we do? How do we help you?" Rory asks.

"Take this," he hands his sonic screwdriver to Amy. "The TARDIS can home in on it. Lyra, go after your mother. Don't let her get herself killed. And take your friends."

"Got it. And Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't die. Please. I can't fly the TARDIS on my own." Total lie, I _can_ fly the TARDIS on my own, have been able to since I was fifty-five.

"I'm not going to die, sweetheart. I've got too much to do still." He cracks a small smile, and I know he'll be all right. I smile back and dart out the door.

"Sam! Dean! Come on, adventure!" I call to them, and don't bother to look to see if they're following me. I know they are. I sneak into the walkway and down the stairs until I see my mother... and about six guns aimed at her.

"...gay gypsy bar mitzvah for the disabled, when I suddenly thought, 'Gosh, the Third Reich's a bit rubbish. I think I'll kill the Fuhrer.' Who's with me?" _Dammit, Mum, seriously?_

"Shoot her," the man in the officer's uniform orders.

"Back, back, back!" I order, pulling my boys flush against the wall. The soldiers all empty their clips into my mother. "She'll be fine. She's within the first fifteen hours of her regeneration. _We_, on the other hand, _won't_ be if we get shot. This is 1938 for god's sake. The bullets are _nasty_ buggers."

"Tip for you all," Mum smiles. "Never shoot a girl while she's regeneratin'." She laughs as she uses the excess regeneration energy to blast the men down on their backs. "Now, that hit the spot."

"Mother!" I move to grab her shoulder. She snags my hand before I can, holding it tight in her grip. "Mum, you're _hurting_ me! Let me go!"

"Didn't I tell you not to follow me?" she asks, tightening her grip before letting me go and grabbing a gun off one of the bodies.

"You told Amy and Rory that, not me. Mum, please, come back to the TARDIS, we can work this out."

"No."

"Mum, you _killed_ them! Quit taking guns off their bodies!"

"Be _quiet_, Lyra! Do as I say, and go back to your father!"

"No!"

"Go!"

"I will _not_!"

She stares at me, and I stare at her.

"Don't. Follow. Me," she enunciates before hopping on a motorbike.

"What are you doing?" Amy asks, Rory holding her back.

"New body, new town- I'm going shopping." And she drives away.

"What do we do now?"

"We go after her," I answer Amy simply. "We get her back, we lock her down in the Zero Room in the TARDIS, and we figure this out. Sam, Dean, hell of a day for your first trip, and I'm sorry. You've been dropped smack-dab in the middle of a family domestic, I'm afraid."

"What's going on?" Dean asks gruffly but not unkindly.

"Okay, um, well, time travel is a risky business. An', sometimes, things happen out of order. So, that's my mum, River Song (but she doesn't know she's River Song, so don't tell her), and she just regenerated. Regeneration is how Time Lords... cheat death, you could say. But she's half-human, half-Time Lord. S'a long story. Anyway. Amy and Rory, here, are her human parents. River, Melody, Mels, same person. An' I'm her daughter, their granddaughter. Makes sense? Yes, no?"

"_This_ is your life?"

"Oi, don't knock it 'till you try it, Winchester. S'my life."

"And I thought _our_ lives sucked," Dean says softly to Sam.

"Oi!" I smack Dean.

Another soldier on a motorbike (motorcycle? same thing) pulls up next to us and the dead gunless soldiers.

"Look, I know how this looks," Rory begins before I hold up my psychic paper.

"Torchwood. Government business. I need that motorbike."

"Torch-what?" he says.

"Dammit," I swear. "Berlin. Germany. Wrong year. No Torchwood here yet."

"_Heil!_" Rory tries, raising his left arm.

"_Heil!_" the soldier repeats, and Rory knocks him out.

"Nice, Rory!" I hold my hand up for a high-five, which is met. "You two take the motorbike, an' call me when you find her. We'll call you if we find her first."

"Got it."

"Hey, stay safe, though, yeah?" Amy demands.

"Swear."

They drive off in one direction, and we walk down another.

"No wandering off! We've only got one mobile phone that works in this time," I warn.

* * *

><p>"Isn't that their motorbike?" I point.<p>

"I think so," Sam says, walking to the building it's haphazardly on the ground next to.

"You're dying, and you stopped to change?" Mum asks incredulously from inside the building.

"Oh, you should always waste time when you don't have any! Time is not the boss of you! Rule four hundred and eight. Amelia Pond, judgement death machine," Dad says.

"Come on," I say, picking up my pace.

"Sonic cane!"

"Are you serious?"

"Never knowingly. Never knowingly be serious. Rule twenty-seven. You might want to write these down."

"Never knowingly be serious unless you're Sirius Black, that is, Dad," I correct with a small smile on my face, leaning against the doorframe. "Thanks for callin', Amy," I say sarcastically.

"Oh, it's a robot!" Dad smiles at the readings on his... sonic cane.

"Did you _seriously_ change into a suit and white bowtie?" I glare at him. "An' where the hell did you get a sonic cane?"

"Oi, watch it. A robot with four hundred and twenty-three life signs inside. A robot worked by tiny people."

"Oh, my, god. You've got to be jokin'. It's a _Teselecta_ ship!"

"Tessa-what?" Dean asks.

"_Teselecta_ ship! Run by the Time Agency; ooh, Uncle Jack's told me stories about these."

"How did you all get in there? Bigger on the inside?" Dad adds that last part jokingly.

"No, Dad, the basic miniaturization is sustained by a compression field," I roll my eyes. "Everyone knows that."

"Ooh! Watch what you eat. It'll get you every time. Amy, if you and Rory are okay, signal me." His sonic cane goes off. "Thanking you. Aah!"

"Dad?" I ask worriedly as he... breakdances? that's the only way I can think to describe it- on the floor.

"No, sweetheart, stay, I'm fine. Leg went to sleep. Just had a quick left-leg power nap. I forgot I had one scheduled. Actually, I'd better sit down. I think I heard the right one yawning."

River starts to run and is blasted with the _Teselecta_ ray.

"No! Stop it! Don't hurt her!" I exclaim, moving in front of her. I scream and fall onto the floor, and the beam goes back onto her.

God, I am _really_ cursing my genetic makeup right now. Everything affects me differently, and this is no different. It feels as if all my pain receptors are going off all at once, full blast.

"Don't you touch them! Don't you harm them, in any way!" Dad orders as Dean comes to my side, a hand on my back.

"You okay?" he asks. I shake my head 'no', curling up into a ball, tears streaking down my face.

"The girl was an accident. She got in the way. Why do you care? She's the woman who kills you," the captain of the _Teselecta_ says in Amy's voice.

"I'm not dead," Dad counters.

"You're dying."

"Well, at least I'm not a time-travelling, shapeshifting robot operated by miniaturized, _cross_ people, which, I have got to admit, I didn't see coming. What do you want with her?"

"She's Melody Pond. According to our records, the woman who kills the Doctor."

"And I'm the Doctor, so what's it got to do with you?"

"Throughout history, many criminals have gone unpunished in their lifetimes. Time travel has... responsibilities."

Dad outright laughs at them.

"What? You've got yourselves time travel, so you decided to punish dead people?"

"Time Agency, Dad," I grit my teeth and sit up, ignoring the pain spikes everywhere. I lean into Dean and let him help me.

"We don't kill the, we extract them near the end of their established timelines."

"Yeah? Then what?" I snap.

"Lyra, sweetheart, are you okay?" Dad asks.

"M'_fine_. Oi! Jackarse captain! Answer my question!"

"Give them hell," is the answer.

"I'd ask you who you think you are, but I think the answer is pretty obvious. So who do you think _I_ am, huh? 'The Woman Who Killed the Doctor'," he points his cane at my mum, who they have in some sort of temporal field. "It sounds like you've got my biography in there. I'd love a peek."

"Our records office is sealed to the public. Foreknowledge is dangerous," the _Teselecta _captain says.

"Yeah, well, I'll be dead in three minutes. There isn't much foreknowledge left."

"Sorry, can't do that."

And the _Teselecta_ doesn't speak. Wincing, I pull my sonic out of my pocket and scan Mum and the field around her, seeing if there's some way to get her out.

No dice. I drop my sonic on the floor.

"Records available," the machine says abruptly. Dad stands, leaning heavily on his cane, and starts pacing.

"Question. I'm dying. Who wants me dead?" he asks.

"The Silence," the machine answers.

"What is the Silence? Why is it called that? What-what, what does it mean?"

"The Silence is not a species, it is a religious order or movement. Their core believe is that silence will fall when the question is asked."

"What question?"

"The first question, the oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight."

"Yes, but what is the question?"

"Unknown."

"Oh, well, fat lot of use that is, you big ginge. Call yourselves a records. Aah!" his grip on the cane falters, and he catches himself as he falls.

"Dad!" I try to move to him, but it doesn't work well. 'Give them hell' indeed.

"The kidneys are always the first to quit! Aah, I've had better, you know."

The field around my mother turns from gray to red, and she screams, twitching.

"L-let my mother go!" I order, my voice wavering.

"Amy, Rory. Amy, can you hear me?" Dad struggles to get out.

"What do we do? This is me, this is me actually talkin', what do we do?" Amy questions frantically.

"Just stop them. She's your daughter. Just _stop_ them."

"How? How? How?"

"Just _do it_!"

"You've got-got t-the sonic," I try to say.

It stops after what seems like forever, and she falls to the floor, breathing heavily.

"You okay?" Sam asks her. She bats him away and stands on her own.

"Please," Dad begs her. "Now we have to save your parents. Don't run. Now, I know you're scared, but never run when you're scared- rule seven. Please."

"Doctor, can you hear me? Doctor?" Amy says, panicked. "Doctor, help us! Doctor, _help_ us! Doctor, please!"

"Dad? Dad, wake up!" I bat Dean's hands away and slowly make my way to him.

"M'fine, Lyra," he groans as he makes his way, albeit slowly, to the TARDIS.

"Don't just sit there!" I snap at my mother, who's in a wooden chair. "Help him!"

"And why would I do that?" River Song asks from her chair.

"Be-be-_cause_! He may not be pinstripes and converse, any more, Mum, but he's _still_ the man you fell in love with! An' _you're_ not pink an' yellow any more, either!"

"Doctor!" Amy cries from inside the _Teselecta_. "Help!"

"Look at you," she ignores me completely and speaks to Dad. "You still care."

"Doctor! Help! Doctor, help us! Please, help us!"

"It's impressive, I'll give you that."

"River... please," he reaches for the TARDIS but can't grab her doors.

"Again!" she exclaims, finally rising from her chair. "Who is this River? She's got to be a woman. Am I right?"

"Help me save Amy and Rory," Dad cries softly. "Help me."

"Tell me about her," she counters. "Go on."

"Oh, for the love of god," I moan.

"Just! Help me!"

River just stands there and looks at him, before heading into the TARDIS and making it disappear.

"Will she come back?" I ask Dad, moving slowly to him on the stairs.

"I do-I don't know," he admits.

"What do we do?"

"We wait."

And wait we do.

* * *

><p>"You can't die now," Amy tells him, grabbing his hand. "I <em>know<em> you don't die now."

"Oh, Pond, you've got a schedule for everything," Dad smiles faintly.

"But it doesn't-it doesn't make any sense."

"Doctor, what do we do? Come on," Rory prompts. "How do we help you?"

"You can't," I pipe up sadly, curling up next to my dad no matter how much it hurts. "Poison from the Judas tree. Kills Time Lords and other double-hearted species in thirty-two minutes, no hope of regeneration."

"Ponds, listen to me. I need to talk to your daughter. Take Lyra into the TARDIS," Dad orders.

"Dad, no-"

"All of your pain receptors are firing at the same time, sweetheart."

"I don't care-"

"I know you don't, but I do. Please."

"Come on, Hazelnut," Amy prompts, pulling me up as gently as she can and helping me into the ship.

"TARDIS voice interface," I struggle out. "I need three paracetamol, p-please."

A small cup with three white pills comes up through the cup holder, and Amy hands them to me. I swallow them dry. Drawing on all my strength, and waiting for the pills to kick in, I step out of the ship and back to my dad, who has his eyes closed.

"Is he...?"

"Who's River Song?" Mum asks. We're not really sure how to answer her, until Amy has an idea and walks to the _Teselecta_.

"Are you still workin' because I'm still a relative?" she asks. No answer. "Access files on River Song."

"Records available," it says in Amy's voice.

"Show me her. Show me River Song."

The machine tessellates to look like Mum, same big curly hair and eyes.

"That's River Song," I tell her. "He never moved on from you, he just learned to love a different _version_ of you."

"Now, he," Amy clears her throat, grabbing on to Rory and him holding her. "What did he say? The Doctor gave you a message for River Song- what was it?"

She doesn't answer, instead calls up the remnant regeneration energy, making her hands glow.

"Mum, do you realize what you're doin'?" I say slowly.

"What's happening? River, what are you doin'?" Amy asks, panicked.

"Just tell me, the Doctor, is he worth it?" Mum asks.

"Do you _know_ what you're about to do?" I repeat.

"Is he worth it?" she ignores me.

"Yes! Yes, mmm-hmm, he is," Amy tells her. Mum kneels next to him and places her hands on both sides of his face. He gasps awake, not quite like Uncle Jack, though, more subtle.

"River, no. What are you doing?" he protests weakly.

"Hello, sweetie," she says, kissing him and filling him with her remaining regenerations.

* * *

><p>"TARDIS all fixed," I tell Dad as he and the Ponds come back in the ship. "Fixed the temporal grace unit, too. Nobody have any intent on killing each other! You'll get your weapon taken away and send back in time where no one can hear you scream! Trust me, it sucks!"<p>

"Uh, your hair," Amy points to my hair, then curls her own with her finger.

"Yeah, the _Teselecta_ completely fried my pain receptors, so I used a teensie-weensie half-regeneration. No harm, no fowl." My hair is a shade or two darker than Amy's, shoulder length, curl at the end, and tied back at the nape of my neck. "This is why we bring mechanics on the TARDIS!" I smile at Dean. "S'all fixed, thanks to me, Dean, an' the TARDIS pointin' us in the right direction. In other news, I lost Sam. I think he's in our library. Sam! Stay away from my _Harry Potter_ books! I mean it!"

"So that's it, we just leave her there?" Amy asks, following Dad to the controls.

"The Sisters of the Infinite Schism- greatest hospital in the universe," he reassures her.

"Yeah, but she's our daughter, Doctor. She's River, _and_ she's our daughter."

"It's where Lyra was born."

"Hello," I wave.

"Amy, I know, but we have to let her make her own way now."

"Take your own advice," I suggest, moving towards Dean.

"We have too much foreknowledge, it's- dangerous thing, foreknowledge," Dad looks at the viewing screen on the console.

"What are you lookin' at?" I ask, glancing over his shoulder. All I can make out is his picture and name before he switches it off.

"Nothing, just some data I downloaded from the _Teselecta_, very boring," he blows off rapidly.

"Doctor, River was brainwashed to kill you, right?" Rory asks.

"C'mon," I pull on Dean's arm. "You don't wanna hear stuff like that. Barely makes any sense." He lets me lead him down a corridor and into an empty room, the ceiling showing the Mutter's Spiral and the floor furnished with carpet so thick and soft you could fall asleep.

"So... _that's_ your family," he says.

"Mmm-hmm. Grandparents who look old enough to be my older siblings, a mum who's a psychopath that killed my dad (and is in prison for it), and a dad who's just a crazed overprotective madman with a magic blue box."

"You're an alien."

"Mmm-hmm. Time Lord. Well, not completely," I lean against the wall, one foot propped up on it, the other on the floor. "Because of some genetic fluke that my father can explain better, Mum's half-human, half-Time Lord with two human parents. An' Dad's full Time Lord, which makes me three parts Time Lord, one part human."

"Little more than I needed to know," he chuckles, taking a seat on the floor.

"Overwhelmed?" I ask gently, moving from my spot on the wall to sit next to him.

"How... old are you?" his playful smile drops into a look of utter seriousness, his hazel eyes looking through my blue ones.

"Ninety-seven Earth years. M'actually pretty young, still. Dad's more than a thousand, and Mum, well, the Mum we just saw, was about one hundred fifty."_  
><em>

"And that 'regeneration' thing."

"That's a defense mechanism of sorts. See, when a Time Lord is near death, instead of kickin' the bucket, we can regenerate. Got to make the conscious decision, though. An' from the two times I've done it, it's extremely painful. You get a new face, look, height, tastes, but the person is essentially the same. Just different likes and dislikes."

"You've regenerated twice?"

"Full ones, yes," I nod. "Half ones don't count. Every Time Lord half-regenerates a handful of times. S'like growin' up."

"What caused you to regenerate?"

"First time, I got stabbed by a person I call 'hell-bitch'. She didn't realize I could regenerate," I scoff. "Second time, sniped right here," I point a finger between my eyes. "Still don't know who did it. Probably some purist alien hater. An' m'not gonna let my dad track it down and kill it. People only get one life, some of us are just a bit lucky and get more. S'no big deal." I lean back and watch the stars on the ceiling, and he copies my movements. "So. Monster hunter, huh?"

"You could say that, I guess."

"What got you into it, if you don't mind my askin'?"

"Kinda grew up in the life. My mom was killed when I was four by a demon. Dad was hell-bent on revenge, dragging us all over the country trying to find the thing that did it."

"Did you?" I yawn, resting my head on his chest and listening to his heart beat. "Did you kill it?"

"Yeah, I did. Not before it got my dad, though."

"M'sorry. If you want parents, you can have mine," I offer, looking up at him with a playful smile on my face. "Mum's probably already fallen in love with you and Sam," I drop my eyes, tracing meaningless patterns on his chest. "An' Dad, he likes you. Even if he'll never admit it out loud. 'Course, he thinks humans are one of the universe's most unique creatures."

"You don't agree?"

"No, I do. Completely, actually. Humans are more accepting, more loving. Less judgemental. Well, most of them are. The rest are incompetent, stuck-in-their-ways, judgemental arseholes."

"Wow, okay then," he chuckles.

"Sorry," I say drowsily. Regeneration takes a lot out of a person, especially one like me. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," he promises. "Are _you_ afraid of_ me_?"

"No."

I eventually fall asleep, his hand in my hair, my hand on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, and wonder to myself why I care about him so much.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Don't forget to review!**


	4. Wounds

**Hiiiii! Anyone watch the end of series 8 of **Doctor Who**? I almost cried. And I never cry at tv/movies/books. I did shout at the tv though. My dad told me to shut up :)**

**ANYway, here's a chapter! This chapter has come straight from my head, so no episodes. The next one, however, shall be a SPN one! Yay!**

**Happy whoday!**

**Oh, um, mentions of the whole Year That Never Was thing. Also, slight mentions (if you can catch it) of Torchwood S1E13 **End of Days**.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Four: Wounds<span>

I skip into the console room, Dean's hand in mine.

"Singer Salvage, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, United States of America, Earth; an hour after we left, if you'd please," I smile at my dad, let go of Dean, and wrap my arms around my father's midsection, rising on tip-toes to look over his shoulder.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks.

"I told Bobby that we'd be back an hour after we left when we were done with the adventure."

"Oh, but sweetheart, not one more adventure? Amy and Rory haven't met Jack yet!"

"One more. Then you take us back. And _I_ get to drive."

* * *

><p>"Hold on, give us two ticks. Jack must've strengthened the field around the Hub: no TARDIS. Just let me dig my card out."<p>

* * *

><p>"Watch this," I beam, walking through the cog door. "Honey, I'm home!"<p>

"Small fry!" Jack smiles, holding his arms out for me to run into (which I do). "Did you use up a half-regeneration? Your hair is longer."

"Nothin' gets past you, huh? Where's Ianto? I want Ianto coffee."

"I'm wounded, Hazelnut," he grips his chest dramatically, the back of his hand on his forehead.

"You should've become an actor, not a Time Agent," I smile cheekily and dart out of the way before he can smack me. "Don't smack me for tellin' the truth! I thought I was your favourite!"

"No, that other redhead is my new favourite. Hello, Captain Jack Harkness, how are you?"

"Don't start," Dad points at him.

"I was only saying 'hello'! Nice bowtie. Do I get one?"

"Uh, I think no."

"Why do you get all the hot people?" Jack moans, seeing Rory, Sam (who _was_ in the library), and Dean walk in behind us.

"No flirtin'! You have a _boyfriend_! Ianto Jones, remember? Wears a suit, makes orgasmic coffee?" I elbow his ribs.

"Yeah, well, the boyfriend isn't too happy with me at the moment."

"Is he hidin' in the Archives as we speak?" I drop my voice down.

"Unfortunately," he mutters back.

"Okay, Uncle Jack, keep in mind: those two are married, he is married, an' those two are brothers an' incredibly straight," I raise my voice back up.

"Come on!" he snaps playfully, taking a few steps away.

"Don't go throwin' a tantrum; you're older than me. If _I_ can't throw a tantrum, then _you_ can't throw a tantrum."

"Who made up that stupid rule?"

"Dad did," I inform my 'uncle'.

"Stupid rule, Doctor."

"I've forgotten how childish you two can be when you're together," Dad facepalms.

"_You're_ the one that said, 'One more adventure! The Ponds haven't met Jack yet!' Honestly, Dad, you should've known that was a bad idea," I chuckle.

"Oi!" Jack protests.

"Jack, seriously. Twelve-year-old trapped in an immortal man's body, remember? Where is everyone?"

"Ianto's down in the Archives, refusing to talk to me. Gwen and Owen are still mad at me and went out to lunch with Tosh."

"They'll come around," I assure him. "Trust me, I'm a time traveller. Now, it's not dark enough to go Weevil huntin' (which is a damn shame)-"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" he asks, laughing.

"Yessir, yes I do. Oh! Introductions! Okay, so, Amy and Rory Williams, Sam and Dean Winchester, Captain Jack Harkness. Jack, if you flirt with _any_ of them, I will shoot you."

"No, but that hurts," he whines.

"Well, that'll teach you, won't it?"

"Yeah, well, I don't like you either."

"Yet you say that with a smile on your face."

"And _that_ is why you are my favourite!" Jack laughs, wrapping an arm around me and holding me close, making me laugh. "This one, she never puts up with any of my bullshit."

"Well, I'd be a horrible niece if I did, now wouldn't I?"

* * *

><p>"Is that the Doctor's space ship on the Plass?" Gwen asks.<p>

"What's he doing here?" Owen demands.

"Are you gonna go away again, Jack?"

"Hello, Hazel," Tosh smiles weakly. "How are you?"

"Livid with those two," I clench my teeth. "Dad, take the Ponds and the Winchesters back to the TARDIS. I will be there in a minute."

"But-"

"_Go._" And they're gone.

"Who the hell is she?" Gwen questions with malice in her tone.

"Watch your tone, Gwen Cooper. Or is it Williams?"

"How... how do you know that?"

"I'm a time traveller. _That's_ how I know."

"Hazel-" Jack steps in.

"They're being _cruel_ to you, Jack, an' you're _lettin'_ them!"

"It's what I-"

"If you say, 'it's what I deserve', so help me, god, I will smack you _so_ hard, it'll take you a good hour-an'-a-half to recover," I threaten, and his eyes drop to the floor. "Ianto, Tosh, s'good to see you again. Not under the best of circumstances, though."

"You _know_ her?" Gwen asks.

"You two _know_ her?" Owen repeats.

"We've met before," I say simply. "Guess I haven't met you yet. Hazel. Time Lord. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but it isn't."

"Time Lord... like the Doctor? Are you gonna take Jack away again?"

"We didn't 'take Jack away', he came of his own volition."

"Yeah, because you people _brainwashed_ him-" I cut Gwen off by slapping her, and her head snaps to the other side from the force of my hand.

"Watch, your, mouth," I warn, enunciating my words.

"Hazel," Jack calls, and I step away from her.

"M'sorry," I lean into his embrace (my back leaning against his chest and his arms around me), still keeping an eye on everyone in the room. "M'sorry. I didn't mean to hit her that hard."

"Why don't you go join your dad and your friends, yeah? I can handle it here."

"Not yet. There' somethin' I have to say first." I slip out of his arms and glare at Owen and Gwen. "You don't remember the Year That Never Was, because it was a paradox. _Nobody_ remembers it. But Jack and I, we were at the eye of the storm. That man was sliced, and carved, and mutilated, and shot, and _tortured_ by a sadistic creature with no value for life, human or otherwise; and Jack remembers every _second_ of it. He didn't ask for that! He asked for _answers_, from my dad, for somethin' that happened before my time. Jack was _used_, an' he never bitched or-or-or moaned about it to you, to _anyone_! An' you two, you just won't forgive 'im for it! An' don't look at me like he's never forgiven _you_ for anythin'! Yeah, Owen Harper, I'm talkin' t'you!"

"How d- how do you know about that?" he swallows thickly.

"Never mind that, that doesn't excuse Jack. He was _gone_ for months!" Gwen tries to excuse herself.

"Pilot error!" I fire back. "M'dad could barely fly that blasted ship _with_ help! It's _not_ Jack's _fault_, so quit _blamin__'_ him! An' that includes you, too, Ianto Jones!" I turn on him. "You should consider yourself _lucky_ that that man cares _so_ much about you, you _all_, but you're pushin' him away! Jesus," I lift up my black eyeglasses and wipe angrily at my eyes. "We offered Jack a place onboard, but y'know what he said? 'I kept thinking about that little team of mine. Like you said, Doctor, responsibilities.'"

"Thank you, Hazel, that's enough, I think," Jack orders calmly.

"No, Jack, it's not enough. If I didn't know how much you cared about these bastards, I would force you to come with us. Then, after we were away from this place an' deep in the Time Vortex, I'd tell you to roll up your shirtsleeves."

"Hazel-"

"Why don't you roll up your shirtsleeves now, Jack?" I cock my head, but keep my tone of voice harsh and biting.

"Because it's cold in here," he says all-too-quickly.

"How long 'ave you been usin' _that_ excuse?"

"Stop it, Hazel!"

"No," I bite back defiantly. "I don't care if you don't want to. Hell, I don't care if you don't _like_ it. Do what you're told, and roll up your sleeves."

"You're not my mother, you're _younger_ than me, and you're not the boss of me."

"Oh, _brilliant_ comeback."

"Hazel. Stop it. You're being cruel."

"An' what would you have me do, Jack? What would _you_ do if it was me, huh?" I raise my voice. "What would you have me do?"

"I would-" he yells before stopping short and sighing heavily. "I would probably tell your mom and dad."

"'Probably'?" I scoff. "What's up with this 'probably' shit?"

"Okay, I would. I would! And then I'd smack you so hard for doing something so stupid."

"Then why did _you_? Jesus, Jack! I should smack _you_ for doin' somethin' so stupid!"

"Are you two gonna speak English anytime soon, or...?" Tosh trails off. I didn't even realize we were speaking in Gallifreyan. Oops.

"You're gonna hate me for this, but you're gonna get over it," I tell my uncle and one of my bestest friends before switching to Welsh, one language Jack doesn't know that Ianto (and unfortunately Gwen) does. "Ianto. Gofynnwch Jack i dorchi ei lewys grys. A pheidiwch â chymryd 'na' fel ateb."

"'Roll up his'- Jack, what's this about?" Ianto asks, finally showing his concern.

"M'sorry, Jack," I apologise in English. "But I love you too much to let you suffer by yourself."

"What gave me away?" Jack asks me.

I take a deep breath and blow it out, stopping at the cog door before informing him that I'm not gonna say. And then I leave them, with a promise to call.

* * *

><p>"Are they all still breathing?" Rory teases as I walk back into the TARDIS and pull the doors shut behind me.<p>

"I'm not that bad!" I protest, smacking his arm.

"Please, that temper of yours has _Daleks_ cowering in your wake, let alone humans."

"I am _not_ that bad!"

"Oh, you're back!" Dad walks into the console room. "Did you shoot anyone?"

"I hate you all," is all I say, crossing my arms. The two men laugh at me. "Time for us to go, Dad."

"Oh, sweetheart, you know I didn't mean it," he says, trying to make me stay.

"That's not why I'm leavin'. You have to let me make my own way now," I quote gently. "C'mon, how old were you when you stole the TARDIS and flew away?"

"You have a point," he says slowly. I walk over to him and hug my dad.

"An' s'not like I'm leavin' you all alone. You've got the Ponds, an' Mum, an' Jack, an' Madame Vastra, even," I say in his ear, releasing him. "An' I've got Bobby Singer an' the Winchesters, not to mention Uncle Jack, Mickey the Idiot, Martha Jones, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, an' you on speed dial. I'll be fine."

"Where's your duffel?" Dad fires off.

"At Bobby's," I answer just as fast.

"Your mobile phone?"

"Left trouser pocket."

"Sonic pistol?"

"On my hip."

"Sonic _screwdriver_?"

"_Right_ trouser pocket."

"Vortex manipulator?"

"Right wrist."

"Your blockers?"

"Duffel."

"Macbook?"

"On the desk in my room at Bobby's. I have everythin' I need, Dad."

"Mobile phone _charger_," he counters.

I roll my eyes but answer his question. "Top right drawer of my ten metre duffel, currently sitting on Bobby Singer's front room floor."

"I think she's passed all your tests, Doctor," Amy smiles.

"iPod," Dad ignores her.

"Dad!" I protest. "I have my emergency duffel, every piece of clothing I own, all my electronics and chargers, a couple DVDs, and my blockers."

"How much Earth money do you have?"

"Two hundred thousand quid, two hundred thousand American dollars. An' I can hit up a cashpoint if I need any more money. Happy?"

"But-"

"If I get in trouble with the police, I have my psychic paper, Torchwood I.D. and UNIT I.D. If I get in trouble with anyone else, I have my sonic pistol and a regular pistol that Jack gave me."

"What about-"

"Crapload of bullets in the duffel, and sonic to charge up the other one."

"What if-"

"We don't play the 'what if' game, remember?"

"Would you let me-"

"Get a word in? No," I smile, a tongue-in-teeth cheeky smile.

"I ought to-"

"Love your only daughter with both your hearts and let her go on her own adventure; yes, yes you should."

"Quit-"

"Doin' that, Lyra!" I laugh at his irritated expression.

"Okay, okay, quit torturing each other, you two," Amy steps in.

"M'not torturin' him," I protest with my smile still in place. "M'just irritatin' the crap out of 'im. There's a difference."

"Well, stop it."

"Well, I could always have My-"

"Don't you _dare_," I interrupt my father. "None of that. No Torchwood or UNIT surveillance, either. I mean it."

"What will you do if I do?" he counters.

"Snap your sonic screwdriver in half," I answer.

His face pales and he starts pushing buttons and flipping levers on the console.

* * *

><p>"Bye! Love you!" I wave to the disappearing space and time ship before heading back into Bobby's house. "See? Back in one piece, like y'said, <em>and<em> back in an hour. Am I good or _what_?" I beam at Bobby.

"You're good, kid," he hugs me in greeting.

"Hey, Hazel, are all aliens British?" Dean asks, bent over and his head in the refrigerator.

"No, Dean, not all aliens are British," I say patiently, rolling my eyes.

"Then why are _you_ British?"

"Good question," I blow off. "Are you- get your fingers out of my pie, Winchester!"

"But it's delicious," he protests, taking another swipe of his finger at the pumpkin goodness.

"Cut it out!"

"No way!"

"Dean Winchester, get your dirty fingers out of my pie!"

"I will have you know that I am Batman, and Batman gets whatever pie he wants, alien pie or otherwise," he says cockily, holding the pie plate high above my head and eating it with his fingers.

"First, what the hell is a bat man, and second, no you do _not_!"

"You don't know who Batman is?" he gasps in faux horror. Or maybe real horror. I don't know.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Winchester. Give me that pie!"

"No way! You don't know who Batman is! You don't _deserve_ pie!"

"Bobby!" I call, and Dean darts out the back door with the pie. "That pumpkin pie has dog shit in it, Dean!"

"No, it doesn't!" he shouts from the scrap yard.

"I'm the one that _baked_ the bloody thing! I think I know what _I_ put in it!"

"Okay, children, knock it off!" Bobby interferes, making me smile.

It was good to be back.

* * *

><p>"No case talk at the table," I warn, setting a big casserole dish filled with chicken cheese enchilada casserole (and we can thank Jackie Tyler's mum, Marie Prentice, for this recipe) in the middle of the table. "And that side has a crapload of sliced up jalapenos. But I was serious about the 'no case talk', unless you're gonna take me, that is."<p>

"How was the adventure?" Bobby asks, serving himself. I sit down next to him and Dean.

"Mmm, probably a bad one for their first," I admit.

"Daleks?"

"Thankfully not! Those pepperpots are just plain mean. No, it was a little family domestic all over Berlin in 1938."

"Why Berlin, 1938?"

"Amy and Rory make crop circle in 2012. Dad sees crop circle with his name in it in a copy of the paper. Dad picks up me, I convince the boys to come, an' it all goes downhill from there."

"Hitler?"

"Hitler," I nod, taking a bite of the deliciousness. Dean moans appreciatively.

"Bobby, you're not allowed to cook anymore," he says around his fork, going in for another bite.

"Who said I could ever cook, idjit?" Bobby smacks him on the back of the head.

"Innit that the truth," I mutter and duck out of the way. "Don't smack me!"

"Idjit," he calls me. "Finish the story."

"Okay, so, Mels, Amy and Rory's childhood friend, pulls a gun, threatens to shoot Dad, shoots the TARDIS console. TARDIS goes haywire, an' we crash."

"So, was Berlin an accident, or-"

"Mels wanted to go kill Hitler. Stupid idea, everyone knows that Hitler's demise is a fixed point."

"Of course," he says wryly.

"Mels got shot by Hitler. Mels _regenerated_ into River Song, my mum. Mum went homicidal, nearly killed Dad, did kill some German soldiers. Rory stole a motorbike by knocking someone out! And, oh my god, there was an _actual Teselecta_ ship. And the people inside were kinda dick-ish. They tried to kill Mum. Don't worry, they didn't. An' Mum used up all her remainin' regenerations in one go savin' Dad. Everythin' worked out in the end, and no one died! Well, almost no one. An' then we went to Torchwood, an' saw Jack, an' I gave Gwen bloody Cooper a piece of my mind!" I punch the air happily. "I don't like her. I _tolerate_ her. But I don't like her. I may have slapped her. But she's still breathin'! An' she was rude! But I didn't do any permanent damage!"

Bobby pinches the bridge between his nose. "Did you shoot her?"

"Of course not! Who do you think I am?" I ask in mock outrage.

"I _know_ you, kid. And I can honestly say that that temper of yours scares me sometimes."

"I'll have you know that I am an _absolute_ angel!"

"Ha! I'll believe it when pigs fly!"

"_That_ can be arranged!" I smack my hands on the table, a big smile on my face.

"Shut up and eat."

"Oh, the gratitude." But I do what I'm told and eat my dinner. "Any good pubs around here?"

"'Pub'?" Dean asks, confused.

"Bar," Sam explains. "And yeah, there's one down the road, why?"

"Well, I don't know about you, Samantha and Hazel, but I wanna get drunk. Why don't you two have a slumber party or something? Paint each other's nails, watch 'The Notebook'. Girl's night in," Dean pitches.

"Well, _Deanna_," I smile cheekily (Bobby snorts and Sam nearly chokes on his beer), "as much fun as that sounds, why don't we have our girl's night _out_ at the pub? Lookin' like that, I bet all the boys _an'_ some of the girls will be buyin' _you_ drinks. D'ya want help with your makeup? I don't wear any, an' I've been told I'm absolutely horrid with makeovers, but I'm sure anythin' would help."

By this point, Bobby and Sam are laughing uproariously, and Dean is practising his death glare on me.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't take a joke?"

"You," he grumbles before cracking a smile. "That was good, I'll admit."

"Why thank you, kind sir. I'm gonna go change an' you two can clean up!" I hop out of my chair and up the stairs to my room before they can protest, slamming my door.

Bobby has kept a room for me, and kept it the same, since I first met him. Dad and Donna saved the world, but that particular one wasn't one I could help with (partly because I was about twenty-five and looked and acted like I was a human seven-year-old). So, thanks to Karen's gracious offer, I stayed here for two nights and two days while they saved the planet from yet another alien threat. The walls are a nice light purple, with a white desk by the window and a queen mattress in the corner facing the door. The closet is in the opposite wall, and already has my clothes in it. Next to my closet is a black framed floor-length mirror.

I gaze at myself in the mirror and pull my hair out of the ponytail. Little dark red curls frame my face, and stop about an inch and a half above my shoulders, and I actually like it that way, so I decide to wear it down but keep a black hair band on my wrist just in case. I brush it out and comb through my bangs that cover my forehead and stop right above my black framed eyeglasses, making them lay straight.

Yes, I am an alien that currently needs corrective lenses to see properly. Shut up.

Happy with my hair, I check my white straight teeth and am pleased when I don't find anything in them. Now for an outfit. Usually I'd just go in what I'm wearing for the day (plain blue t-shirt, dark blue denim jeans, and knee-high black boots in today's case), but I want to change into something more fun. Yes, it's just a pub, but the less money I spend there, the more I have for more important things. And yes, I can just empty a number of cashpoints of their money with my sonic screwdriver, but where's the fun in that? I just want to wear something nicer, dammit, so I will. Maybe something that will make Dean's eyes bug out of his head, even. I chuckle softly at the mental picture I've just created for myself.

I look through my closet and smile when I find a strapless black dress with multi-coloured roses on it and a little brown belt below my bust. Ooh, I'm gonna need a strapless bra with this, too. Good thing I have a white four-drawer dresser next to my desk in the corner opposite my bed. I open the second drawer from the top and pull out a black strapless brassiere and a pair of black knickers. I get dressed, thank god that I thought to shave today, and grab some mismatched ankle socks and a shorter version of the boots I love (black boots that go right above my ankle, no heel so I don't die, and a silver buckle on the outside). None of my shoes have heels because I can't wear a super tall one (two+ inches) or else I will die. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Man, I'd forgotten how much I love this dress! It's not super tight, only tight at the bust and flares out a bit when it reaches my hips, stopping right above my knees. _And_ it has pockets, which is where my sonic screwdriver and mobile go. I grab a holster, attach it to my upper right leg, and slide my sonic pistol into it and snap the little strip of cord over it onto the other side to keep it in place. Never can be too prepared. Dad hates guns, but it was a present from Mum so I got to keep it. After they argued about it, of course.

I skip down the stairs with a smile on my face, and head to the hook by the front door where my blue purse hangs. I look through it and find my UNIT I.D. card, psychic paper, earbuds, an ink pen that writes in royal purple, and a wallet filled with two grand in American dollars in twenty's and hundred's.

"Ready!" I beam, slinging it over my shoulder so it's across my body and walk to the kitchen, where my boys are elbow-deep in dirty dishes. Dean looks at me and drops a plate into the sink, dish water splashing on him and his brother.

"Dean!" Sam protests. "Jerk."

"Bitch," he says without thinking, eyes still glued on me. My smile turns sheepish, and Bobby literally smacks some sense (or tries to) into him.

"Quit starin' at her, damn idjit. She's not a piece of meat."

"Actually, Bobby, I don't mind-" I start to say before his glare cuts me off. "I mean, 'just kidding, I do mind'?"

"Yes, you do. You mind very much."

"Sorry, Winchester, apparently I mind if you undress me with your eyes. If you two are done cleanin' up, we can go."

"And why are _we_ on clean-up duty?" Dean asks.

"Because I made you dinner! Now hurry up!"

* * *

><p><strong>Who is the mysterious 'My'? hehe<strong>

**Serious time now guys.**

**Okay, I did that thing with Jack because, hello, PTSD anyone? PTSD + depression. Because, even though he is immortal (which the Master took advantage of), he can still do that to himself. Cutting is no joke, k, because if you're clinically depressed (like me hi) you can do that to yourself to try to feel something, anything. And yes, I speak from experience. I don't anymore, but, back to my whole point. Jack is like uber strong but sometimes it's the uber strong ones that do the stupidest things. And Hazel loves him with both of her hearts but unfortunately can't stick around to help him the way he needs it. So she tells Ianto, who she knows loves him as much as she does. Any questions, you can leave in a review.**

**Bye!**

**Seriously, review!**

**Oh! And TBC!**


	5. Demons pt 1

**New chapter! Aren't you little people so lucky? ;) jk you know I love you all!**

**Happy Veterans Day! Thank you for all who serve/have served. Shout out to my dad, who I know will never read this (because he hates supernatural but oh well), but he was an Army Ranger (mega elite people) before he met my mom. Should say *is* because once a Ranger, always a Ranger. :)**

**This one is part 1 of 3 (I think) of **Supernatural S4E9 I Know What You Did Last Summer**. 3 parts because, well, you'll see. Unless otherwise stated, most chapters will have 1 or 2 parts. I own nothing but Hazel, and I'll see you at the bottom!**

**On an unrelated note, in my Doc Manager on FF, this chapter is titled 'ch5banana' because I was eating a banana when first typing this. Always bring a banana to a party.**

**Okay I'm done now bye**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Five: Demons part one<span>

"Is it possible to fall in love with a car?" I ask, sighing happily when my bum hits the leather seats in Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala. "Because I think I have."

"Hot woman _and_ she loves my car. Marry me," Dean smiles from the driver's seat.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I don't put out on the first date."

"So, this is a date?"

"Will you two stop?" Sam moans from the passenger seat. Yep, I've been banished to the back seat.

"So, who's designated driver? Not me, 'cause I can't drive a car," I tell them.

"We'll remedy that later," Dean promises. "Sammy, you be driver. Now that that's done, let's go get drunk!"

"Yeah!" I cheer, and he drives out of Singer Salvage onto the main road.

* * *

><p>"Brian, come on, man, just one more. Just-just give me a chance to win it back," Sam hustles someone at pool, playing drunk. I sit at the bar and watch the interaction, a beer in my hand.<p>

"It's your cash," 'Brian' warns.

Cue Dean.

"Excuse me," he interrupts. "My brother's a little sauced to be making bets.

"Hey, he insisted."

"Yeah, but you've already taken, what, two bills off him? I'm just sayin'."

"Hey, shut up, Dean. I'm fine," Sam slurs.

"No, you're not fine. You're drunk!"

"Let's make it five hundred," Sam ignores him.

"'Five hundred'?" Dean says incredulously.

"Sure," Brian falls for it. Sam slaps some money on the pool table next to a beer. "Five hundred," the poor human agrees. "Your break."

Sam aims at the white cue ball, and launches it with the cue, expertly breaking the triangle of balls.

"Hey, time bitch!" a hand claps my shoulder, and I let out a squeak of surprise. "I thought I killed you."

"Hell bitch," I frown as she sits next to me. "Can't kill a person like me with a simple knife."

"Obviously. Like the hair. You need glasses now?" she laughs.

"Don't laugh at me. I'm just waiting for the right moment to get revenge. Who are you wearin' now?"

"Hey," Sam walks over to us.

"Well, you got a lot of nerve showing up anywhere _near_ me," Dean frowns.

"I just have some info, and then I'm gone," hell bitch defends herself. "Time bitch, here, was just a pleasant surprise."

"You know them?" I ask her.

"_You_ know them? Look who's all alone in the big bad galaxy by herself now! What did Mummy say? Ooh, what did _Daddy_ say?" she gasps.

I pinch my nose and close my eyes exasperatedly. "Do you _ever_ stop talkin'?"

"Wait, you two know each other?" Dean asks, still pissed with her.

"Hell bitch over here tried to kill me," I explain.

"I _did_! I _did_ kill you! How was I supposed to know that you regenerate?"

"Do your homework next time, eh?"

"Okay, thank you," Sam interrupts. "Ruby, what d'ya got?"

"I'm hearing a few whispers," she tells him, becoming serious.

"Ooh, great, demon whisperers- _that's_ reliable."

"Girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday," Ruby continues, ignoring Dean. "The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently, some real heavy hitters turned out for the easter egg hunt."

"Why? Who is she?" Sam asks while Dean takes my glass of beer and drinks it.

"Oi!" I protest.

"No idea," Ruby says. "But I'm thinking that she's important, 'cause the order is to capture her alive. I just figured that whatever the deal is, you might want to find this girl before the demons do."

"Thank you, hell bitch, you can go now," I smile sweetly.

"Look, maybe we _should_ check it out," Sam says, turning to his brother.

"Actually, we're working a case, but thanks," Dean smiles sarcastically at her.

"What case?" Ruby asks.

"Uh, we've got leads, big leads," he keeps trying.

"Ooh, sounds dangerous. Time bitch helping you out?"

"Yeah, well, it sure ain't goose-chasing after some chick who, for all we know, doesn't even exist, just because you say she's important."

"I'm just delivering the news. You can do whatever you want with it. Far as I'm concerned, I told you, I'm done," Ruby announces irately. Dean raises his own mug of beer in goodbye at her words, and she hops off her bar stool.

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam stops her. "This hospital Anna escaped from, it got a name?"

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Bobby," Dean says the next morning.<p>

"C'mon, Dean, what's the big deal if we take her with us?" Sam argues.

"She hasn't had any experience with crap like this! I mean, c'mon, Sam, can she even shoot?"

"She can hear you," I walk down the stairs, freshly showered. "And yes, I haven't had any experience with supernatural things, but I've had plenty of experience with alien things. And those might compare, and they might not. That's for you to decide."

"Can you shoot?" Dean asks me.

"Sweetheart, this isn't just a toy," I pull my sonic pistol.

"Don't you fire that thing in my house, Hazel," Bobby orders as soon as he sees it. "Last time you did that, I had to buy a new microwave."

"I saved your _life_ doin' that! The microwave got in the way, an' _I_ bought you a new one. I think you should get over it."

"Target practise outside."

"_Fine_, mister demanding. C'mon, boys. Set up some bottles or somethin', an' I'll show you what I can do."

"Good thing we drink a lot of beer, huh?" Dean smiles, leading me outside. On an old beat-up car about twenty yards away, he sets up five bottles. "Go for it," he backs away, standing behind me.

"Just give us a second," I say, pulling out my sonic screwdriver from my camo jacket pocket and charging my pistol up. The four lights on the side flash blue (like a battery meter of sorts), and I switch the dial on the opposite side to 'stun'. Stun, squareness, medium, kill, destroy. Those words are written in Gallifreyan, engraved by my mother when she gave it to me. "I hope you're ready for this." I shoot one of the bottles, shattering it into a million pieces. Then, aiming at the one next to it, quickly rapid fire until the remaining four are broken. "How's that?" I turn to him and smile cheekily, flipping the safety on.

"Yeah, that was good, I'll give you that. Let's see how you work with a gun from _this_ century, though," Dean says, walking towards the car and setting up some more bottles. Then he strides back to me and hands me the gun he keeps in his waistband.

"How do I-"

"Cock it like this," he stands behind me, holding me close to his chest. "Safety's here. It fires a little high so you have to compensate."

"Right, thank you," I clear my throat. "Little space, please?"

"Fine, but you know you like it," Dean backs away.

"Do you flirt with all women, or just alien ones?"

"Dean flirts with anything that wears a skirt," Sam calls from the deck, where he and Bobby are watching.

"Damn! I wore one last night! Maybe _that's_ why," I tease with Sam.

"Ha, ha, ha," Dean says sarcastically. "Just shoot the damn gun."

I fire and hit the neck of the beer bottle.

"Aim for the body of the bottle," he orders.

"That's where I _was_ aimin'," I tell him.

"Don't get pissy with me!"

"M'not _pissy_, Winchester! Shut up so I can concentrate!"

"You think a demon is gonna be quiet while you try to concentrate? No, he's gonna be taunting you. Teasing you. Shouting at you!"

"Shush!"

"Shoot the damn bottles!" he yells at me, and that's exactly what I do. I destroy them, hitting exactly where I want it to, emptying the clip. I switch the safety on, and hold out the gun for him to take.

"Here," I hand it to him, and he takes it.

"Where did you learn to shoot?"

"Dad hates guns, Mum loves them. She bought me one, an' her and Uncle Jack taught me."

"Good job," he praises, tucking the gun back into his jeans.

"Does that mean I can come?"

"Dean gets final say, but I'm good with it," Sam says. "Good shooting."

"Thank you," I smile at him, then turn to Dean.

"Have you been getting puppy dog eye lessons from Sam?" he accuses.

"Nosir. S'all me."

"Stop that."

"_Please_ can I go huntin' with you? Please?"

He groans.

* * *

><p>"Okay, I know hell bitch gave us the information, but this is still pretty damn excitin' for me," I beam from the back seat, a tongue-in-teeth smile gracing my features. My duffel has joined the boys' duffels in the trunk. I'm riding in the Impala, on the way to a case. A <em>supernatural <em>case, not an alien one. And, yeah, I'm on Earth, but Earth is like my home planet, because I'm part human (Gallifrey would call me a thing, abomination, mutt) and because there is no more Gallifrey. I'm _on my own_. No mum or dad to baby me! "This is _so_ cool."

"Yes, can I get a copy of the missing persons report? Great. Okay. Thanks," Sam says into the phone before hanging up.

"That reminds me, I should probably put my number into your mobile phones later," I muse.

"Well," Sam hands me his phone. "Anna Milton's definitely real."

"Don't mean the case is real," Dean waves off. "Here, Hazelnut." Dean holds out his mobile phone and I take it. "And this hospital's a three-day drive."

"We've driven further for less, Dean," Sam points out. "You got something to say, say it."

"Oh, I'm saying it: this sucks."

"You're not pissed we're going after the girl, you're pissed Ruby threw us the tip."

"Right," Dean says. "'Cause as far as you're concerned, the hell bitch is practically family. Yeah, boy, something major must've happened while I was downstairs-"

"'Downstairs'?" I interrupt.

"'Cause I come back, and-and you're BFF with a demon?" Dean ignores me.

"I told you, Dean, she helped me go after Lilith," Sam says patiently.

"Well, thanks for the thumbnail. _Real_ vivid. You wanna fill in a little detail?"

"Can we not fight, you two?" I interrupt again, programming myself into Sam's phone.

"Sure, Dean, let's trade stories. You first. How was Hell? Don't spare the details," Sam continues on.

"Did you just say 'Hell'? Like, Hell's an actual place?" I set the phones on the seat and lean on the front one. "You went to Hell, Dean?"

"Yeah, to save Sam's sorry ass!" he snaps, his fingers turning white on the steering wheel.

"I didn't ask for that!"

"Course you didn't, you were _dead_!"

"Stop bickerin'!" I snap. "You can explain without verbally _killin'_ each other!"

They both fall silent, and I decide to finish putting my mobile phone number into theirs.

"Wankers," I name-call softly.

* * *

><p>"What's your planet like?" Sam asks me a few hours later. He's at the wheel now, because we banished Dean to the back seat for a nap because he insisted we keep going, and he was swerving. I'm sitting in the front seat.<p>

"I wouldn't know," I admit. "Gallifrey was destroyed in the Last Great Time War."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. My parents and me, we've kinda adopted Earth as our home now. S'nice. People are more... open."

He shoots me a curious glance, and I elaborate.

"The Time Lords would frown upon my father for 'fornicating' with my mother and creatin' an 'abomination'. Not to mention what they'd do to me. M'glad the only full Time Lord I know is m'dad."

"I think I know where you're coming from," he says.

"How do you mean?"

"When I was six months old, a demon bled into my mouth..." and he then tells me the story of Azazel, his dad, his mum who died that night, and his brother. Ghosts, shapeshifters, demons, djinn, werewolves, vampires, you name it. And then it's like Supernatural 101 for the next two hours after the half-hour story, how to kill things and such. And I couldn't be happier. I think -hope- Sam and I will be good friends.

I repeat:

_So_ cool.

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," I whine the next morning. In the car.<p>

They drove through the night, and we _still_ aren't there yet. We're _still_ driving. My bum hurts.

"Why couldn't we have taken a plane? I've never been on a aeroplane before."

"Planes are unsafe," Dean says from the driver's seat.

"No, they're not."

"They actually are."

"Then why do so many people use them every day?"

"Because people are stupid and suicidal," is his answer.

"Can we stop at a Starbucks?"

He ponders that question for a moment or two.

"You got money?" he asks.

"Yes. Starbucks?"

"How _much_ money?"

"In my purse or in my duffel?"

"Both."

"Ummm," I draw out the word, thinking. "American dollars or British quid?"

"Why do you have both?"

"Because I spend time in both places an' my dad wanted me to be prepared. S'not like I can take a day trip to Cardiff when I'm in London and out of cash. An' my friends love me, but s'not like they're gonna give me tons of money," I shrug. "I've been known to go crazy at shops, accordin' to Amy. I've not the foggiest what she's talkin' about though," I wave off, knowing that it's partially true. I like shopping sometimes. Sue me.

"Okay, then how much do you have altogether?"

"Um, let me think. Two thousand American dollars in my purse, two hundred thousand in my duffel, and another two hundred thousand quid, which converts to... three hundred sixteen thousand eight hundred ninety-five American dollars and twenty cents," I add mentally. "I think. I could be wrong. I haven't checked the currency rates recently. Last time I checked, I was in 2014."

"Why 2014?"

"Long story. Starbucks?"

"We really shouldn't stop..."

"Please?" I beg, turning my puppy dog eyes on him and sticking out my bottom lip just a bit for good measure.

"Son of a bitch," he swears. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," I smile victoriously. "You love me an' you know it."

* * *

><p>"Can we play I Spy?" I ask, sipping on my white chocolate mocha with an extra shot from Starbucks.<p>

"No," Dean replies, drinking his own black coffee.

"Am I annoying you?"

"No."

"Can I plug my iPhone in and play music?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts her cakehole."

"Why is it 'cakehole' when you're a pie lover?"

"It just is."

"Am I annoying you now?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

"I Spy with my little eye... somethin' blue."

"Hazel, I can't play. I'm driving."

"Oh, come off it, Dean, an' quit bein' such a spoilsport. It was a road sign that we passed because you didn't see it because you're lame."

"I'm not lame!" he protests.

"Then prove it! I Spy with my little eye, somethin' red." I roll my eyes when he doesn't answer. "Dean Winchester, play with me or I will bug you forever."

"My Starbucks cup?" Dean says, finally.

"Nope."

"A brick?"

"Where the hell do you see a _brick_?"

"Okay, okay, okay. In the car or out of it?"

"Out."

"Have we passed it yet?"

"Not quite. An' that's cheatin'!"

"No, it's not!" he laughs. "Is it that tree?"

"Oh, give the man a medal," I giggle.

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be rude?" he teases.

"Mmm-hmm! Rude an' ginger, that's me! Okay, your turn."

"Okay, I Spy with my little eye... something..."

"Think faster."

"Shut up! Okay, okay, something... green."

"My camo jacket," I guess.

"I hate you."

"You're lyin'. Okay, I Spy with my little eye, somethin' purple."

"That tree's leaves."

"You're good! Your turn."

"I Spy with my little eye, something orange."

"That caramel wrapper on the floor."

"Why are you so good at this?"

"M'just more observant than you, I guess. I Spy-"

"Hey!"

"I Spy," I repeat, laughing, "with my little eye, something white."

"That fence."

"No."

"That... barn?"

"Nope."

"A cloud?"

"Your turn."

"Sweet! Oh, I Spy, with my little eye, something... blue."

"The sky."

"No," he says.

"Ooh! That lake!" I smile, pointing out the window.

"I swear to god you are cheating! Can you read minds or something that I don't know about?"

"Not without permission. And not without a physical connection in most cases. S'called 'psychic linking'."

"Never do that to me. Or Sam," he turns deadly serious.

I roll my eyes. "Dean, I can't unless you give me permission. I could try, I guess, but I wouldn't. S'very violatin'. An' it would hurt, breakin' through someone's mental defenses like that. I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."

"You sound like you speak from experience," Dean's tone softens.

"I don't wanna talk about it," I snap. "Sorry. That came out a bit harsh. My turn? I Spy with my little eye, somethin' yellow."

* * *

><p>"Stop the car!" I order with a huge smile on my face, looking out the window.<p>

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, Dean! Pull over!"

"Okay, jesus," he directs the car to the side of the road and stops. I fling open the door and look at the sunset, watching the colours change as they streak along the skyline.

"Look at that sunset!" I breathe reverently, digging around in my pocket blindly for my mobile phone.

"What's so great about a sunset, Hazelnut?" Dean asks.

"You need to learn how to appreciate the simpler things in life, Dean Winchester. Look at the beautiful mixture of colours in the sky, how they interact with each other. It's even better with the little wisps of clouds. The purples, the reds, the oranges, the yellows." I snap a picture with my phone. "Okay, now stand over here. An' smile."

"Wait, Hazel, what're you-"

"I need a picture for your contact in my phone!" is my excuse. "Now smile before I make you. An' you're next, Sam."

Sam groans and Dean laughs at his brother. I quickly snap the picture.

"Yay! Your turn, Sam-ster."

"But-"

"If I had to do it, you have to do it," Dean rationalizes.

"But-"

"Samuel Winchester! Don't be such a baby!" I order.

"Fine!" he says irritably and stomps over to where he's supposed to be.

"Smile!"

He does, albeit half-heartedly.

"A _real_ smile, Sam. Think of teddy bears and puppies."

He snickers, and I snap his picture.

"Now take my picture!" I beam, handing Dean my mobile phone.

"How do you work this?" he asks as I skip a few feet away.

"See that white button on the screen? Push that."

"But it's-"

"It's touchscreen! Trust me!"

I smile my best tongue-in-teeth smile and the shutter sound clicks.

"Did I do it right?" Dean asks his brother.

"I think so. See that little corner down there? I think that's where the picture went," Sam answers.

"Let me see," I walk over, taking my phone from his hand. "Ooh, I like that picture! Here, look at yours." Sam-ster and Dean-ster come and stand behind me, looking over my shoulder. "You two look adorable."

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?"<p>

"No."

* * *

><p>"How about now?"<p>

"No."

* * *

><p>"Are we there now?"<p>

"Hazel-"

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?"<p>

"Good god, do you _ever_ sleep?"

"A few hours every couple days, why?"

"You should sleep now."

* * *

><p>"Am I annoying you?"<p>

"Hazelnut, don't make me hurt you."

* * *

><p>"Are we there yet?"<p>

"Not even gonna grace that with a response."

"...you just did."

"Hazel!"

"Sorry! Sorry! Goddess, I'll just play on my phone!"

* * *

><p>"I died. <em>And<em> I'm out of lives."

"_I'm_ gonna die soon."

"You love it."

* * *

><p>"Ooh, are we gonna stop for food?" I ask as Sam pulls into a 'mom and pop' diner.<p>

"She does _not_ get caffeine," Sam whispers conspiratorially.

"Agreed," Dean goes with it.

"I can hear you!" I protest.

"Good. No coffee for you, short stuff," Dean _kills_ my hair.

"Do you have a death wish, Winchester?" I glare at him before pulling on my beanie. "I hate you."

"Nah, you love me, and you know it," he wraps an arm around my shoulders and steers me to the doors. I look back at Sam and mouth 'Help!' and he just laughs.

"Sam! I thought we were friends!" I mock-glare.

"Sorry, Haze, but Dean Winchester is _not_ a happy camper if he doesn't get food."

"But he eats all the time!" is my argument when I sit down next to the Winchester we're talking about.

"Right here, you two," he protests.

"Did you know humans are the only species in the universe that go out in the wilderness and camp with tents for fun? You people are more unique than you think."

"That's... actually pretty interesting," Sam-ster admits.

"I don't know about you two, but I want pancakes," I smile, looking at the menu sitting on the table.

"You smile a lot, you know that?" Dean asks.

"I like smiling," I inform him, not taking my eyes off the menu. "Oh, my, goddess, strawberry cheesecake pancakes! Ooh, and milkshakes. I want a strawberry milkshake."

My mobile rings, an unfamiliar number.

"I'll be right back. If the waitress comes around, you know what I want," I sober up instantly and step outside. "Hello?"

_"A little fez-wearing birdie in a blue box told me you were on Earth."_

A small smile graces my features. "Hi," I breathe. "It's been years. H-how are you? How's your brother?"

_"We're both fine, Hazel."_

"Listen, I'm sorry that-"

_"It's okay. Like you said, it's been years. I'm over that now."_

"We never meant for that to happen. Peter and I-"

_"I know. How is Peter, by the way?"_

"Oh, um, he," I clear my throat, "he got shot by a Dalek, an' couldn't sustain regeneration."

_"Oh, Hazel, I'm sorry."_

"No, no, it's okay. S'been a while. So, you an' my dad are talkin' again?"

_"We both made mistakes, and I needed help, much as I hate to admit it."_

"Oh?"

_"UNIT troubles. We recently learned they were experimenting on aliens off-books."_

"Well, I could've told you _that_."

_"Your help would've been appreciated, believe me. Your dad requested I not bother you with it, though."_

"So, this was recently?"

_"Last week, actually."_

"M'gonna kill 'im. I literally just saw him a few days ago! Wanna help me?"

_"Sorry, Hazel,"_ he laughs, a sound I haven't heard in years. _"We're on good terms, I think that would be ruined if I killed him._"

"You're probably right," I agree. "Plus, the universe _might_ just destroy itself without the Doctor to save it." A woman looks at me like I'm crazy as she walks down the street. "Do you mind, lady, I'm tryin' to have a private conversation!" She picks up her pace. "Humans, I swear."

_"You do remember that I _am_ human, right?"_

"Okay, okay, _some_ humans. Happy?"

_"Slightly,"_ he says, making me laugh.

"I have to go. Give your brother my love, yeah? An' you, too. I'm really glad you called."

_"Goodbye, Hazel."_

I click the call of and programme his number into my phone, then head back inside.

"Who was on the phone?" Dam asks.

"An old friend," I say simply.

* * *

><p><strong>Do you like it? Do you hate it? Who is Hazel's 'old friend'? Is it the mysterious 'My' mentioned last chapter? Who is Peter? Why is Hazel so annoying in the car? (Because she doesn't do well with boredom and Dean is a meanie and wouldn't let her play her version of good music. Maybe.)<strong>

**DOCTOR WHO ON SATURDAY NIGHT OH MY GOD. THE FINALE WAS JUST *sobs loudly in a corner and yells 'WHYYYYYY'* ASDFGHJKL MAN**

**If you know why I am having a feels explosion and would like to discuss, feel free to PM me. Please don't spoil things for other people who haven't seen it. :D**

**Please review! Reviews are like CANDY! Or coffee. Or whatever your favorite thing in the world is.**

**It is too early for Christmas music!**

**I love you all!**

**Review!**


	6. Demons pt 2

**5,121 words. Longest chapter yet!**

**Okay, so, remember when I said this was gonna be a 3-parter? I may have accidentally lied. I thought it'd be longer! But instead, you get two parts (sort of), and a long-ass chapter. You're welcome.**

**On a side note, a friend of mine asked me if it was hard writing a character that eats meat when I'm personally a vegetarian. Answer: nope. I just ignore it lol. You're welcome.**

**Enjoy le chapter and review! Not beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine! Feel free to constructively criticize in a review! I don't care, as long as you review! Please no hate though:D**

**Also I own nothing. Sad day ;(**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Six: Demons part two<span>

"Stay in the-"

"Don't even _think_ about, let alone suggest, me staying in this god-awful motel room, Dean Winchester. There are cockroaches everywhere, an'- oh, my god, is that a _rat_? I am _comin'_!"

"But-"

"I have a business suit and skirt, Winchester. This isn't my first rodeo impersonatin' a government official." _Not to mention I _am_ a government official. But not what they're impersonating._

"Ooh, she's so bad, Sammy. Can we keep her? Ow!" Dean protests as I stand on top of the bed and soundly smack the back of his head.

"Do I look like an object you can just cram into the boot of your car, Dean?"

"The what?" he rubs the back of his head. "You're so abusive!"

"Give me five minutes, an' I'll be ready," I promise, lugging my duffel with me into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"I did not get dressed in this god-awful outfit to sit in the car, Winchester. I am <em>sick<em> of sittin' in that car! Three _days_, you two couldn't pull into a bloody motel?" I fume, slamming the door of Dean's precious Impala.

"Don't slam the door of my baby!" he orders, and we walk into the mental hospital.

"This is what you get for not letting me have my caffeine this morning," I hiss at him.

* * *

><p>"Now the orderly has no recollection of Anna's escape?" Sam asks the woman in Ward 42. Anna's room.<p>

"Apparently she knocked him unconscious. The blow caused some amnesia," she explains. "He doesn't even remember coming into her room.

"How strong was this orderly?" I ask the woman sceptically.

"I agree, that's a hell of a right hook to knock out a guy that's got eighty pounds on her," Dean inputs.

"We think she may have planned this, waited behind the door," she waves off.

"Right," I mutter.

"Uh, you mentioned Anna's illness was recent," Sam continues, following her out of the room.

"Two months ago," she stops in the hallway, "she was happy, well-adjusted, journalism major, lots of friends- bright future."

"So, what happened- she just... flipped?" Dean asks.

"Well, that's the tragedy of schizophrenia. Within weeks, Anna was overtaken by delusions."

"What kind of delusions?" I question.

"She thought demons everywhere," the woman explains, handing Sam a book. He and Dean look over it. "It's not uncommon for our patients to believe that monsters are real.

"Well that-that's just batty," Dean says, winking at her.

"So, um, you said she disappeared a few days ago?" I ask.

"That's correct."

"Do you have any surveillance cameras? Any idea which direction she went in?"

"No, sorry. Our cameras have been broken since last week. We haven't gotten the security company to come out yet."

"That's Revelations," Dean says, looking at his brother.

"Since when does the book of Revelations have jack-o'-lanterns?" she asks.

"It's, uh, it's a little-known translation."

"Ah. Well, Anna's father was a church deacon. When she became ill, her paranoia took on religious overtones. She was convince the Devil was about to rise up and end the world. I hope you find her. It's dangerous for her to be out there alone right now."

"I hope we do, too, ma'am. We'll do everything we can to find her," I assure her.

"Can we take some of these? To help with our investigation," Dean adds.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>"What made you guys so 'omg'-face at the hospital?" I ask once we're back in the car. After a Starbucks trip, right after the mental hospital. I talked them (Dean, because Sam didn't care) into it.<p>

"'Omg-face'?" Dean laughs at me.

"Can it, Winchester," I snap right back.

"What Anna drew in the book," Sam says, inadvertently (or not, he does live with Dean) breaking up our little spat. "Take a look." He passes back the sketches they took.

"'Raising of the witnesses'? 'Samhain the next seal is broken'? What _is_ this?"

"Those are seals, sweetheart," Dean chimes from front seat. Guess who's stuck in the back again?

"Seals for what?" I ask my boys.

"Raising Lucifer. Starting the apocalypse," Sam explains.

"Like, in the Bible 'apocalypse'? Damn. So, that's sixty-six random seals broken out of a possible six hundred sixty-six, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I'm ninety-seven. I like readin'. It's entirely possible that I've spent over a quarter (or maybe a third) of my life doin' just that. One time I got bored and starting researchin' the Judeo-Christian God. I read the Bible. Didn't like it that much, but, eh, well, ya know." I pause, and then ask, "Are we there yet?" with a stupid smile on my face.

"Don't start!" Dean orders loudly. "God, _please_ don't start with _that_ again!"

I laugh, and so does Sam.

"Why are _you_ laughing, bitch?" Dean slug his brother in the arm, other hand on the wheel. "_You_ didn't have to put up with _that_!"

"Oi! I'm not a 'that', I'm a 'she'!" I giggle.

"I swear to whatever or whoever that will listen, next time I'm in a car with you longer than an hour, I'm duct-taping your mouth shut," Dean threatens me. "And quite possibly your hands."

"Dean Winchester, are you insinuating that I am handsy or that you are going to kidnap me?" I ask boldly, making Sam choke on his own coffee.

Dean smirks at me through the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, If I was gonna kidnap you, you'd know. And I _definitely_ don't mind a handsy woman."

"Ugh, what did I just walk myself into?" I groan teasingly.

"That's the house," Sam points it out, and Dean parks the car at the kerb.

"Stay in the-"

"Not a chance," I interrupt Dean with an evil smile, opening the back door and shutting it closed. "I call dibs on knockin' on the door!" I hop up the steps and knock on the glass door. No one answers.

"Maybe they're not home," Dean says.

"Both cars in the driveway," Sam mentions.

"D'ya think they went for a walk?" I ask hopefully.

"No, Hazel, no, I do not," Dean says, preparing to kick the door down.

"Wait!" I stop him, grabbing his arm. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my sonic screwdriver and get to work on the lock. It clicks after a few seconds. "Now try."

He turns the knob, and the door opens.

"Huh. Good job, Hazelnut." Dean walks into the house first, followed by Sam and me. "Mr. and Mrs. Milton?"

"We're from the Sheriff's department," Sam announces. "Just wanted to ask you a couple questions."

"Hello?" I call hopefully from in the dining room.

"Don't come in here, Hazel," Dean warns from the living room a few seconds later.

"Why?" I ask, completely ignoring him and walking into the grisly scene. Mr. and Mrs. Milton are dead on the floor, blood pouring from their sliced necks. "Oh. That's why."

"Sulphur," Sam groans after sniffing a yellow powder left on the floor.

"Demons?"

"Yep. They beat us here," he answers me. "Whatever the deal is with this Anna girl-"

"Yeah, they want her," Dean interrupts his younger brother. "And they're not screwing around. Alright, so I'm 'Girl, Interrupted', and," he looks through their mail, "I know the score of the Apocalypse, just busted out of the nut-box. Possibly using superpowers, by the way. Where do I go?"

"Hey, you got those sketches from Anna's notebook?" Sam asks.

"Yeah," Dean puts the mail back.

"Let me see 'em."

Dean reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out the folded-up sketches, handing them to Sam. He flips through them until stopping at what reminds me of a stained glass window.

"Check this out," Sam continues, pointing at a picture of Anna (another redhead) and her parents.

"Anna's dad was a deacon or somethin', right?" I wonder.

"Yeah, looks like she was drawing the window of her church," Dean says.

"Over and over," Sam confirms. "If you were religious, scared, and had _demons_ on your ass, where would you go to feel safe?"

"Her church?" I guess.

"Her church," he nods.

* * *

><p>"That's a beautiful window," I comment as the bells toll. The window from her drawings was even better in real life.<p>

"Yes, it is," Sam agrees, and we walk into the church. Wearing normal clothes, thank god. The boys immediately pull their guns.

"Hazel, do what we say this time, got it?" Dean orders, making me stay behind him. "It could mean life or death."

"Unless it's somethin' stupid, then yeah."

She's not in the main sanctuary, so we head upstairs to the offices.

Upstairs is crowded. And cluttery.

"Look," Sam gestures to the stained glass window with a woman hiding behind it.

"Okay, my turn. Put those damned things away," I order. "Scaring her isn't gonna do you any good. Anna? My name is Hazel, an' these are my friends, Dean and Sam. We're not gonna hurt you, we're here to help."

"Sam?" she asks, still behind the glass. "Not Sam Winchester?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam says hesitantly. Anna steps away from the glass and out in the open.

"And you're Dean. _The_ Dean?"

"Well, yeah. _The_ Dean, I guess," he smiles at her, and I smack his arm. "Ow! Hazel!"

"Thank you for makin' his ego bigger, Anna," I tell her sarcastically.

"It's really you," she says near reverently, walking towards us. Dean pulls me slightly behind him. "Oh, my god. And you, you're Hazel. The angels talk about you. All of you. Dean, you were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us. And some of them don't like you two at all," Anna looks at me and Sam. "Especially you, Hazel. They call you an abomination."

I shrug. "Nothin' I 'aven't heard before."

"They talk about you all the time lately," she looks back at Dean. "I feel like I know you."

"So, you talk to angels?" Dean asks sceptically.

"Oh, no. No, no way. Um, they probably don't even know I exist," she waves off.

"Doubt it," I mutter.

"I just kind of... _overhear_ them."

"M'sorry, did you just say you 'overhear' them?" I ask.

"Yeah, they talk, and sometimes I just, hear them in my head."

"Like... right now?" Dean asks. I whip out my sonic screwdriver and scan her.

"Not right this second, but a lot. Uh, what are you doing?"

"Interesting. _Very_ interesting! Let me guess, you can't shut the voices out?"

"Uh, yeah-"

"This is _so_ cool. It's kinda like spontaneous psychic linking, except you can't control it, an' it's invasive. You're tapped into the angels, aren't you?"

"Yeah. What was that red thing?" she asks.

"Sonic screwdriver. I wonder..." I trail off.

"Okay, Hazel, thank you very much," Dean pulls me back. "I swear, she's almost as big a nerd as you are, Sammy."

"Oi!" I smack him.

"So, they lock you up with a case of the crazies when really you were just... tunin' in to angel radio?" Dean asks her.

"Yes," she answers. "Thank you."

"Anna, when did the voices start? Do you remember?" Sam steers the conversation back to focus.

"I can tell you exactly- September eighteenth."

The brothers share a look.

"What?" I ask them.

"The day I got outta Hell," Dean explains.

"You're explainin' that in a little more depth later," I inform him.

"First words I heard, clear as a bell: 'Dean Winchester is saved'," Anna continues.

"What do you think?" the older Winchester asks the younger.

"It's above my pay grade, man," Sam scoffs.

"Well, at least we know why the demons want you so bad," I shrug.

"They get ahold of you," Dean begins, "they can hear everything the other side's cooking. You're 1-900-Angel."

Anna chuckles before sobering up. "Hey, um, do you know, are my parents okay? I-I didn't go home. I was afraid."

"Oh, um, about that-" I start to say before the door is slammed open.

"You got the girl? Good, let's go."

"Oh!" Anna exclaims, breathing heavy and backing away. "Her face!"

"Tell me about it," I moan.

"No, it's okay! She's here to help," Sam tries to reassure her.

"Yeah, don't be so sure," Dean frowns.

"We have to hurry, a demon's coming. Big-timer. We can fight later, Dean."

"Pretty convenient, hell bitch, showin' up right when we find 'er with another demon on your arse?" I scoff.

"_I_ didn't bring him here, time bitch, _you_ three did," Ruby accuses. "He followed you from the girl's house! We got to go, _now_."

"Dean," Sam gets his brother's attention and points to a white statue of a woman. A woman whose eyes are bleeding?

"It's too late," Ruby says. "He's here."

"_Who's_ here, hell bitch?" I demand.

"Come with me," Sam orders, grabbing Anna's arm and escorting her to another room.

"Ruby! Who's here?" I demand.

"Stay in there, don't move," he warns her before shutting the door of the little cupboard. (Maybe 'closet' is a better word? Same thing.)

"Sam, you got to pull him right away," Ruby tells him as he takes out a silver flask.

"Hold on a sec-"

"Now's _not_ the time to bellyache about Sam going dark side," Ruby snaps at Dean. "He does his thing, he exorcises that demon, or we die."

"But who is it?" I ask her again. "Ruby!"

The door is thrown open again, and a man walks up the stairs and stops in the doorway, looking at us. Then, he runs his hand along the banister, looking at the dust it left behind. And then Sam raises his hand. The man's eyes flash white, pure white, and he grabs his throat. He coughs, and his eyes roll back.

"That tickles," the man with a receding hairline chuckles. "You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam."

He raises his own hand, and Sam flies across the room, through the banister, and down the stairs. Dean pulls a knife and tries to stab him, but he grabs his wrist.

"Hello again, Dean," he smiles before physically throwing him into a pole and beating his face in. Dean drops the knife.

"Don't even _think_ about it, time bitch," Ruby warns, grabbing my arm. "He'll kill you before you can even _blink_."

"He can try," I mutter darkly. "Get Anna out of here, yeah?"

"Come on, Dean," he man coos at him. "Don't you recognize me? Oh, I forgot: I'm wearing a paediatrician." And he punches him again.

"Hey!" I snap, getting both of their attentions.

"Why don't you sit down, sweetheart?" the man smiles darkly and raises a hand to me. "Take a load off."

"Nice try, you bastard." I pull my gun. "Leave him alone."

"Oh, but we were so close. In Hell," he smiles at Dean before punching him again.

"Stop it!"

"Alastair," Dean groans. "Hazel, get out of here."

"Not a chance, Winchester," I say as Sam sneaks up on Alastair. "Touch him again, wanker, an' see what 'appens!"

"Maybe when I'm done bashing his face in, I'll work on you," he threatens. "I wanna hear you _scream_."

"Don't you touch her," Dean says before he gets punched in the face again.

"Or what?" And it's then when Sam turns him around and stabs him in the chest. "You're gonna have to try a whole lot harder than that, son." And he pushes him away, too.

"Oh, yeah? How about this?" I raise my sonic pistol, flick the safety off, and blast him square in the chest. His body pulses blue and yellow from the gun and knife (which is still embedded in his chest), respectively. Then Sam darts over to Dean.

"Hazel!" Sam calls, and glances towards the window.

"Go on! Don't worry about me, I'll meet you!" I programme the necessary coordinates in my vortex manipulator and vanish.

* * *

><p>It takes about five minutes for them to show up at the motel, and I already have all their things crammed into their respective duffels. I dropped the key off, and sit on the kerb until the Impala pulls up and I slide into the back seat.<p>

"I grabbed everythin'," I tell them, and Sam screeches out of the lot and towards the Interstate. "I gave the key back, an' left the room exactly how we found it. Although, I might've screwed up whose things were whose. Wasn't sure how much time I had, y'see. Been sittin' in that car park for the past three minutes."

"How long have you been here?" Sam asks.

"Five minutes."

"It took you two minutes to clean up and return the key?" Dean asks sceptically.

"Okay, so I slowed down time a little bit. Sue me later."

"You can do that?"

"With great difficulty," I admit.

"What's a 'car park'?" he changes the subject.

"Car park, y'know, you park the car in the car park and go inside the motel or the supermarket or wherever."

"I think you mean 'parking lot'."

"Whatever, Dean, tha's not the most important thing right now. I want answers, an' I _mean_ it," I demand. "Why did you go to Hell? Who was that Alastair creep? Is 'downstairs' a reference to Hell? Who's Lilith? How did you get out of Hell?"

Dean takes a deep breath.

"Lot of questions, Hazelnut."

"All you, brother," Sam encourages. "She should know."

"Bitch," Dean name-calls. "Fine. Um, I went to Hell because I made a deal with a crossroads demon to bring Sammy back. A bastard named Jake stabbed him, cut clean through his spinal cord. They gave me a year."

"A year before _what_?" I interrupt.

"Hazel, if you want me to get this all out, don't interrupt. I doubt I'll be able to start up again," he warns, and the emotion disappears from his tone. "Okay, they gave me a year to live, basically, before the hellhounds came and cashed in on their deal. Alastair is a demon. Yes, downstairs means Hell. Lilith is an a-list demon who holds all the deals, the contracts. And an angel pulled me out of Hell."

"How long were you in Hell?"

"Four months."

"D'ya remember anythin'?"

"No," he denies, a little too swiftly.

"'Hellhound', tha' sounds like some sort of dog. Did it-"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Dean," I gasp softly, the tears spilling down my cheeks without permission. Every answer he gave me had my tone softening from its anger and irateness bit by bit. The things this man had endured! It broke my hearts.

"Haze, are you crying?" Dean asks.

"No," I say, a hitch in my breath as I lift up my glasses and dry my eyes with my sleeve.

"Aw, dammit, Hazelnut, please don't cry."

"M'sorry," I sniffle. "Can't help it."

"Son of a bitch," he swears before climbing to the back seat. He pulls me to him with one arm and holds me tight, my face buried in his neck. "You're killin' me here, Hazelnut."

"M'sorry," I say again. "I do-don't mean to. Can't control my emotions sometimes. Damn DNA," I cast blame. "Everythin' a human feels is half the potency of what I do. Which is ironic, 'cause Time Lords don't feel emotion like a human does. Goddammit, Dean!" My breath hitches again, and I throw my arms around his neck. He lets me cry in his shoulder.

"I never noticed those gold flecks in your blue eyes," he says soothingly.

"They usually aren't noticeable unless I do somethin' to provoke 'em. Somethin' stupid," I yawn, "like slow down time."

"S'okay, Haze. You can sleep, alright? I gotcha." Dean repositions us so we're laying down in the seat, me on top of him.

And with his heartbeat beating under my ear, I do.

* * *

><p>"You like her," Sam informs his brother, waking me from my nap on Dean's chest. I keep still and fake sleep to see what he'll say.<p>

"What are you, twelve? We back in elementary school, Sammy?"

"Dean and Hazel, sittin' in a tree-"

"Shut up, bitch, you're gonna wake her up!"

"You asked for it, jerk."

Silence falls for about a minute until Sam asks, "What do you know about her? I mean _really_ know."

"Well," he thinks for a minute or two. "You've seen her. She's caring. Smart, I'd say. Willing to be a hunter, so maybe she's crazy," Dean laughs softly. "Or maybe she's just an adrenaline junkie... Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Dad would've liked her?"

It's quiet again, before Sammy says, "Yeah, Dean, I think he would've."

* * *

><p>"Samuel Winchester, stop that nonsense immediately," I order, walking into the motel room with their duffels and dropping them on the floor.<p>

"I'm almost done, Hazel," he groans, adding his last stitch in the skin. I kneel next to him on the bed and bat his hands away.

"I can't believe you two jumped through a window two stories above the ground," I tsk and add another stitch.

"Are you almost done?" Dean calls from the bathroom, spitting into the sink.

"Goin' as fast as we can, sweetheart," I tell him. "Almost done."

"Good, 'cause you know, I got a dislocated shoulder over here."

"Yeah, well, that's what you get for jumpin' through a window, innit?" He walks back into the main room, his bad arm curled around his chest to prevent jostling. "Sam'll pop it back when I'm finished stitchin' 'im up."

"Yeah, how'd you pull that vanishing trick, anyway, Hazelnut?"

"S'called a 'vortex manipulator'," I tell Dean as he drinks from a bottle of alcohol. "S'like a TARDIS, -Sam, hold still- 'cept it can only take up to five people at a time. My mum child-locked it, so I can only take me, an' I can't leave the planet, an' can only go forwards and backwards up to a year. Sam, quit movin', m'almost done!"

"Dean. Give me that," Sam holds out his right arm for the bottle. He passes it over and he takes a healthy swig. Then when he's finished, I use it to disinfect the wound.

"M'sorry, m'sorry," I say over and over as he groans. "I've got to clean it, m'sorry."

"S'fine, Hazel," he says through clenched teeth. I add a bandage to his arm and call it good.

"So, you lost the magic knife, huh?" Dean asks. "The knife kills demons," he adds before I can ask.

"Yeah, saving your ass," Sam fires right back. "Who the hell _was_ that demon?"

"No one good. We got to find Anna."

"Ruby's got her," I say.

"I thought you hated her," Dean frowns.

"I _do_, but she has her uses. She'll be okay. Now, I'd help you with that shoulder, but m'afraid that I'd do it wrong."

"I got it. Come on," Sam rises from the bed and to Dean, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on the top of his arm. "On three. One-"

"Aah!" Dean exclaims in pain as the joint is popped back into place.

"At least it's not dislocated anymore?" I offer some sort of encouragement.

"Enough with the optimism, Hazel," he snaps.

"Y'know what, m'not gonna take offense to that 'cause your lashin' out 'cause you're in pain. I _am_, however, gonna grab my duffel bag from the back of the Impala. Keys," I hold out my hand, and he drops them. "I'll be right back."

Okay, so, I may or may not have slammed the door behind me. And I may or may not have just stood out there for ten minutes to piss him off. I admit nothing. I do, however, admit to unlocking the trunk of the Impala, grabbing my duffel, locking it, and heading back inside. And it's cold outside.

I head back inside and drop the duffel on the free bed.

"Hold on two ticks, I think I've got an ice pack in here somewhere." Unzipping the duffel, I peek in and open a file cabinet drawer. "F for 'first aid'? Or M for 'medical supplies'? No, no, C for 'cold'," I mutter to myself and open the right drawer. I pull it out, and slam it shut. "Got it! Here, Winchester." I toss it to him and he catches it.

"Thanks, Hazelnut. Hey, how deep is that thing?" he asks, pressing it on the shoulder joint.

"Ten metres."

"That's like thirty feet!" Sam butts in.

"Actually, thirty-two feet, and nine and 45/64 inches," I inform cheekily. "Had it for years. S'got everythin' I might need in it. No nanogenes, though, sorry. Gonna have to heal the old fashioned way." I zip it shut and walk to the bathroom, finding a washcloth hanging from the towel rack. Turning on the hot water tap on the faucet, I wait for the water to clear up and be clear instead of brown. Then I soak it and wring it out. "Dean, sweetheart, sit down. You have dried blood all over your face."

"Yeah, that's 'cause I got my face beat in." But he does what I say and sits down on the end of my bed.

"Oh, lookit, it's that dry humour we all love so much."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, what gave me away?" I lay the sarcasm on thick this time, and straddle him as I clean his face. "Quit your squirmin', Winchester."

"Why are you doing this? Don't you hate me now?"

"Now, what on Earth gave you such a stupid and absurd idea like that?" I freeze in my movements. "I could never hate you, Dean. _Either_ of you. Hell, even if you picked up your gun and shot me, I still couldn't hate you."

"But what did I do to deserve that?"

I lightly slap his face -not hard enough to leave a mark, of course- and continue what I'm doing.

"Hazel," he prompts.

"Dean, m'not gonna answer that 'cause it's a stupid question, 'kay? Now hush. M'nearly done. Just shush a mo'."

"Housekeeping!" a woman shouts, knocking on the door.

"Not now," Dean calls back.

"Sir, I've got clean towels," she pushes.

"I got it," I roll off his lap and walk to the door. "Couldn't you just leave them at the door?" I ask as I open it. "What the-"

"Shush!" the dark-skinned woman shushes me, shoving towels in my face and walks in. She shuts the door and the curtains. "I'm at this address," she hands Sam a paper.

"Anna was right, hell bitch. Your face _is_ disgusting."

"Can it, time bitch, and just go. Now. Through the bathroom window. Don't stop, don't take your car, don't pass go. There are demons in the hallway and the parking lot."

"Ruby?" Sam asks, astonished and slightly irritated.

"Okay, yes, so I'm possessing this maid for a hot minute. Sue me," she puts her hands on her hips.

"What about-"

"Coma girl? Slowly rotting on the floor back at the cabin with Anna, so I've got to hurry back. See you when you get there. And, time bitch, use your red noise-making thing on the wrist strap. If you do it right, you can do one trip with passengers. But only one. Now, go!"

And with that, she walks out.

"Give me that," I rip the paper out of Sam's hand. Then I take out my sonic and get to work on my vortex manipulator.

"What did she mean?" Dean asks me.

"As much as I hate to say it, I think she helped us. But I have no idea how she knew about vortex manipulator travel. Remind me to ask her about that if we get there."

"'If'?"

"When," I correct myself. "My goddess, she was right." I look at the screen and listen to the psychic interface. "Leave everythin' here, we can come back for it. And come here, both of you."

"Are we gonna travel with _that_ itty-bitty-thing?"

"Dean, d'ya trust me?" I counter.

"Yeah," he replies instantly.

"C'mere, an' wrap one arm around me. Both of you. One hand has to touch this wrist strap at all times, or you'll fall into the Time Vortex, an' we can't have that happen."

"Why, what'll happen?" Sam asks.

"D'ya really want the answer to that, Sam?"

"Guess not."

"S'what I thought. Hold on tight, an' don't let go." Once they're in position, I programme the coordinates and set off.

* * *

><p>At least we land firmly on the ground. In the middle of the cabin giving Anna a slight heart attack. Dean bends over and Sam falls on his hands and knees, both desperately trying to draw breath.<p>

"Time travel without a capsule'll do that to ya. Did I forget to mention tha'?"

"Yeah, ya did," Dean pants. "That was worse than an airplane."

"But a fraction of the time! Oh, you'll be fine in a couple minutes."

"Good job, time bitch, you didn't fuck it up," Ruby says almost sincerely. Y'know, in her 'I still hate you and you're a screw-up' tone.

"Sorry 'bout the scare, Anna. You okay?" I ignore hell bitch for right now.

"Yeah, I think so. Ruby's not like other demons. She saved my life," Anna smiles at her.

"Yeah, I hear she does that," Dean says, throwing a pointed look at Sam.

"Oi, hell bitch. How'd you know about the vortex manipulator?"

"Go back exactly two hours, to when we first get here. You tell me," she answers.

"Okay then. Circular paradox. Yay. Be back in five seconds."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review! Please please please!**


	7. Angels pt 1

**I don't know what it is, guys. I don't. This chapter just kinda wrote itself last night and today. Just be happy. It might not happen again. Or it might. Idk. Depends on how much school I put off;) And if my muse decides to stay and play!**

**Seriously though school is a bitch so I said screw it today lol. Don't tell my mom!**

**Oh, and **giddyfan **(my one and only reviewer who I love because she takes five seconds and reviews hint hint), I'm actually not allowed to watch Supernatural! So I haven't seen the 200th episode yet. Haven't had a chance. Really want to, though! Might watch it tonight if I get a chance. Yeah, since I'm fifteen and live under my religious parents' roof, I'm not allowed to watch it. They hate me (well they don't but yeah). Oh well. I've been using Netflix (on my brother's side haha) to get the dialogue, but they haven't checked the logs yet so I'm still good for now. :D**

**Anywho, I owe nothing except Hazel. And also this is the very next episode of Supernatural, **Heaven and Hell**. Some questions are answered, and more arise!:D Ahahaha hate me later and love me now. Also no beta;(**

**Please please please review!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Seven: Angels part one<span>

"Back!" I reappear in the right place and time as I left. Dean, Sam, hell bitch, Anna. Nasty no-fun cabin. "Guess you got the message, then?" I ask Ruby.

"Yep. Done and done."

"I guess I, uh," Dean looks at Ruby, clearing his throat. "You know."

"What?" she pushes.

"I guess I owe you for... Sam. And I just, I wanna," he clears his throat again, and I sit next to Anna. "You know?"

"What did I miss?" I whisper.

"Not sure," she whispers back.

"Don't strain yourself," Ruby tells him.

"Okay, then. Is the moment over? Good, 'cause that was awkward. Hey, Hazelnut."

"Hey, Dean," I smile at him. "How long was I gone?"

"You kinda came back as you left."

"Time travel," I shrug, not fazed at all. "S'what happens."

"Hey, Sam, you think it'd be safe to make a quick call, just to tell my parents I'm okay?" Anna asks, pleading with her eyes. "They must be completely freaked."

"Um, well, actually, funny story, y'see- hey, do you like popcorn? I want some popcorn. Yeah? Let's go get some popcorn," I try to distract her and wrap an arm around her. "Or, let's watch 'The Princess Bride'! Huh, redhead slumber party? No?"

"Anna, um," Sam begins, and I move so he can take my place. "Your parents."

"What about them?"

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologises for something out of his control, and I stand next to Dean, who wraps an arm around me and holds me to his side.

"No, they're not-"

"Anna, I'm sorry."

She curls in on herself and cries.

"Why is this happening to me?" she screams in anguish.

"I don't know."

"Oh, Sam-ster, you suck at comforting people. Anna, sweetheart, c'mere," I move away from Dean and hug Anna. She wraps her arms around me and cries into my shoulder, much like I did with Dean only a few hours before. But she is crying for a personal loss, and I was crying because of horrible things that happened to a man I have known for a week (if that). All of a sudden, she yanks away from me and starts gasping.

"They're coming," she says, panicked. The lights flicker and crack.

"Back room!" Dean orders, and that's where he and I run to. Sam follows with Anna, and Ruby stays behind to barricade the door. "Hazel, go back and get the duffels. We need weapons."

"Got it. Be right back."

"Be careful!" Dean says as I disappear in a flash of blue light.

* * *

><p>"Crap, crap, crap," I mutter in Gallifreyan as I think of how I'm gonna get three duffels back when I can only take one. And then it hits me. "I'm an <em>idiot<em>!" I laugh. Making sure they're zipped completely (and thanking Rassilon that we didn't unpack at all except to change out of the bloodstained clothes in their case), I open mine and lower Dean's onto a utility hook near the top and snap it shut (like a heavy-duty carabiner). Then I do the same to Sam's. Pulling out a strap hanging from the duffel wall, I zip it shut, attach the strap to the clips on the side, and throw it around my shoulder. Then I vanish again.

* * *

><p>"Got them," I reappear and pull their bags out. "Wasn't sure how I was gonna do it, but then I remembered my duffel isn't an ordinary duffel!" Dean digs through his until he finds a gun and tosses it to Sam.<p>

"Your blue blaster thing still work?" he asks.

"Most definitely," I check the 'battery' level to find three of four lights brightened. "Are angels coming? Is that what she heard?"

"Not sure."

Ruby darts in and digs through Dean's bag.

"Where's the knife?" she demands once she can't find it.

"Uh, about that-"

"You're kidding," she glares at Dean.

"Hey, don't look at me!"

"Thanks a lot," Sam sarcastically snaps at his brother. He smiles and turns back around.

"Great. Just peachy. Impeccable timing, guys, really," Ruby fumes. The door starts rattling, and Dean pulls me behind him to protect me. Which is really sweet, if you think about it. But I don't need protecting. Nonetheless, I stay. The door keeps rattling and shaking until it's thrown open by a powerful gust of wind, which blows my hair back. And then it stops, and there are footsteps. A man in a tan trenchcoat and tie walks in, along with another man in a suit.

_I know them._

"Please tell me you're here to help," Dean says as Ruby's eyes flash black. "We've been having demon issues all day."

"Well, I can see that," the second man points out. "Mutt issues, too. You want to explain why you have those _stains_ in the room?"

"Uriel," I sneer, stepping away from behind Dean.

"You know him?" he asks.

"Not by choice," I scoff. "Only Uriel would call me a mutt. Newsflash! You're no better than me, arsehole. Quit actin' like it."

"We're here for Anna," the first man -_Castiel_- says.

"Here for her, like, _here_ for her?" Dean clarifies.

"Stop talking," Uriel snaps. "Give her to us."

"Maybe when hell freezes over, we'll consider it," I narrow my eyes at him.

"Are you gonna help her?" Sam questions.

"Oh, they'll help her, alright. They'll help her by decidin' tha' she doesn't have to suffer through livin' anymore."

"She has to die," Castiel finishes.

"Not happenin'," I cross my arms.

"You want Anna? Why?"

"Out of the way," Uriel orders, ignoring Sam's questions.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her," Dean tries.

"Don't worry. I'll kill her gentle."

"You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?"

"As a matter of fact, we are," Cas agrees. "And?"

"No," I deny. 'S'_not_ the Cassie I used to know. Anna's an innocent girl, Cassie! You look me in the eye an' you tell me otherwise!" I get up in his face, despite Dean trying to pull me back.

"She is _far_ from innocent, Cara."

"An' what's tha' supposed to mean?"

"It means, _mutt_, she's worse than that abomination Sam's been screwing," Uriel interrupts. "Now _give_ us the girl."

"Bullshit. _No_ one's worse than hell bitch over there. An' I wasn't talkin' t'you! I was talkin' to Cassie!"

"You haven't grown up at all since we last met, have you?" Castiel asks me.

"Maybe it's _you_ who's grown up too _much_," I retort. "Can't you see this isn't right, Cassie?"

"Sorry," Dean sides with me. "Get yourself another one. Try JDate."

"Who's gonna stop us?" Uriel taunts. "You two? This demon whore?" He grabs her arm and throws her through the window. "Or what about the mutt?"

"Don't touch me," I warn darkly, turning back to him.

"Fine." He picks up Ruby and slams her against a wall, one hand wrapped tight around her throat, one hand trying to pull her from the body. Dean bashes his head with the butt of the gun.

"Cassie, stop this, please!" I plead when Uriel grips Dean's fist tight. He moves past me and knocks Sam out with two fingers to his forehead, then moves towards where Anna's stashed. "Castiel, you damn well know you better listen to me!" my voice turns sharp, and I stand in between him and the door to Anna.

"Cara. We are friends. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't think you understand what that word means. Uriel's beatin' Dean to a pulp an' you're _lettin'_ 'im! Why do you wanna kill the girl so bad, Cassie? This isn't the you I used to know!"

"Millenium has passed since then, Cara," he says seriously, and then a blinding white light appears, causing me to cover my eyes. It pulses, like lightning, and then it's gone. And so is Cassie.

"What the," Dean trails off.

"Are you guys okay?" I dart back to where Dean and Ruby are.

"Did you do that?" he accuses.

"No," I say as he stands up. "Wish I did, though."

"Come on," Dean helps Ruby up, and she checks on Sam.

"Anna?" My priorities shift when I realize my boys are okay. "Anna!" I go to check on her, Dean following me. Her arm is bleeding, and there's some sort of mark on a mirror.

"Are they-are they gone?" she asks.

"Did you kill them?" Dean rebuts, wrapping the wound in a scarf.

"No. I sent them away. Far away."

"How?" I question her.

"That just popped in my head," is her answer. "I don't know how I did it. I just did it."

Dean and Sam, who I didn't notice come in, share a look and step out.

"S'not even that bad," I try to reassure her. "Let me look?"

"Go ahead," she allows, and I carefully lift the scarf up to look at the angry wound.

"S'gonna need stitches. I can do it now, if you'd like. My boys have a med kit here somewhere." I push the scarf down and press her hand over it, then go to Dean's duffel and pull out the kit. Threading the needle and sterilizing with some booze (also in his bag), I walk back over with the bottle in my hand. "Drink about two healthy swigs, then give it back. Got to sterilize the wound, an' that's gonna hurt."

She drinks and hands it to me.

"Don't look, okay? Close your eyes." I pour the alcohol on her arm and she grips the chair until her knuckles turn white. "What were your parents like? Did they ever take you anywhere special?"

"One time, we went to Disneyland. I was about six or seven. We stayed at the resort there." She keeps talking about her trip while I stitch carefully and precisely, and I actually listen.

* * *

><p>"Iron walls drenched in salt," Dean pounds on Bobby's panic room walls three times. "Demons can't even <em>touch<em> the joint."

"Which I find racist, by the way," Ruby says from outside. I laugh and Anna smiles a bit from her chair.

"Write your Congressman," is Dean's witty retort, which has me laughing even more. "Somethin' funny, sweetheart?"

"You two," I giggle. "S'like cats an' dogs!"

"Ha, ha, ha, time bitch," Ruby says sarcastically before tossing two little bags to Dean and one to me. "Here."

"Hex bags?" Dean asks.

"What's that?"

"Extra crunchy," Ruby ignores me. "They'll hide us from angels, demons, all comers."

"Thanks, Ruby," he says before handing one to Anna. "You two lovely redheaded ladies. Don't lose these. And Hazel, don't open it. Don't scan it, don't do nothin' to it, just keep it on you."

"But why?" I ask, pulling out my chain with the TARDIS key on it and looping the hex bag around it.

"Trust me. You don't wanna know what's in that thing. So, Anna, what's playing on angel radio? Anything useful?"

"It's quiet," she informs him. "Dead silence."

"Good," he says sarcastically. "That's not troubling at all."

"We're in trouble, huh? You guys are scared?"

"Anna, the only things that scare me are Daleks, and Cybermen," I say. "An' I don't see any of those monstrosities here, so I think we're good."

"Nah," Dean continues.

"Hey, Dean! Hazel!" Sam calls from upstairs in Bobby's library.

"Just stay here, okay?" Dean says before grabbing my hand and walking past her and Ruby. "Keep an eye on her," he orders Ruby in passing.

"How's the car?" is his first question to his brother who's been gone all night and most of the morning.

"What he _meant_ to say, was, 'Hiya, Sammy! How was the drive? Did you get followed and/or nearly killed by anything?'" I do a poor imitation of his southern American accent.

"I don't talk like that," Dean frowns while Sam chuckles.

"'I don't talk like that.'"

"Stop that."

"'Stop that.'"

"I got her, Dean, she's fine. Where's Bobby?"

"The Dominican," Dean answers his brother. "He said we break anything, we buy it, and Hazel's not allowed into his secret stash of booze."

"Which is dumb," I frown, crossing my arms.

"He working a job?" Sam keeps going.

"_God_, I hope so. Otherwise, he's at Hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap."

"Now that's seared in my brain."

"What did you find on Anna?"

"Uh, not much," he opens a folder and sets it on a table. "Her parents were, uh, Rich and Amy Milton, a church deacon and a housewife."

"Riveting."

"Yeah, uh, but there is something here in the report. Turns out this latest psych episode wasn't her first."

"No?"

"When she was two and a half, she'd get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn't her real daddy."

"Who was? The plumber, hmm? A little snaking the pipes?" Dean jokes.

"Dude, you're confusing reality with porn again."

"_And_ scarring me! My ears are bleeding," I clutch at my head.

"Look," Sam continues, not buying my theatrics one bit, "Anna didn't say. She just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad, like wanted-to-kill-her mad."

"Kinda heavy for a two-year-old," Dean points out, and I drop my hands back to my sides.

"Well, she saw a kid's shrink, got better, and grew up normal."

"Until now. So, what's she hiding?"

"Why don't you just ask me to my face?" Anna announces herself, arms crossed, Ruby standing behind her.

"Nice job watchin' her," Dean frowns.

"I'm watching her," Ruby defends herself.

"No, you're right, Anna. Is there anything you want to tell us?" Y'know, Sam would make a good diplomat.

"About what?"

"The angels said you were guilty of something. Why would they say that?"

"You tell me! Tell me why my life has been leveled, why my parents are dead. I don't know, I swear. I would give anything to know."

"Then let's find out," I suggest.

"How?" she asks.

"You boys do your thing; I've got a couple calls to make." And with that, I walk out of the room and to the outside world, mobile phone in hand.

He answers on the third ring with his normal, _"Hello?"_

"My? It's Hazel. Are you secretly runnin' UNIT the way you are Great Britian?"

_"Why do you ask?"_

"I need a favour. They locked me out of the system an' took my permissions away, an' I need them back for somethin' m'workin' on."

_"What are you workin' on?"_

"I can't tell you. M'sorry. D'ya still trust me? Could really help, a database like that. An' I promise not to blow up the planet!"

_"What about Torchwood?"_

"S'not big enough. Not worldwide. But don't tell Jack that, yeah? Please, My, I _really_ need back in that database, much as I hate them. An' you _know_ how much I hate them. I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was necessary."

It's silent for a few moments.

_"Okay,"_ he finally says. _"I'll get your permissions restored and call you when they are."_

"Oh, My, you're a _lifesaver_, I _mean_ it. I owe you one."

_"Visit sometime soon, then."_

"I promise I will after this case is over. Love you, My."

* * *

><p>"We're here!" Dean calls, walking down the creaky old stairs to the basement. I follow Sam out of the panic room.<p>

"Pamela. Hey," he addresses the woman wearing sunglasses that Dean went to get yesterday.

"Sam," she smiles.

"It's me, it's Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Sam, is that you?"

"I'm right here," he reassures Pamela.

"Oh," she brings a hand to his face. "Know how I can tell?" _Smack!_ "That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing! Of course I know it's you, grumpy. Same way I know that's a demon, that poor girl's Anna, and _that_ girl is the daughter of the Bad Wolf goddess and the Time Lord they call the Oncoming Storm. _And_ that you've been eyeing my rack."

"Uh, um," he stammers.

"Don't sweat it, kiddo," she laughs off. "I still got more senses than most."

"Got it."

"Hey, Anna, how are you? I'm Pamela," she holds her hands out for Anna to take.

"I like her," I tell Dean, an excited smile on my face. He wraps an arm around me and we move a bit closer.

"I like you, too, Hazel!" she turns her head towards me, then back to Anna. "Dean told me what's been going on. I'm excited to help."

"Oh, that's nice of you," Anna smiles.

"Oh, well, not really. Any chance I can dick over an angel, I'm taking it."

"Why?"

"They stole something from me," Pamela says, and takes off her sunglasses. "Demony, I know. But they're just plastic. Good for business. Makes me look extra-psychic, don't you think?" She laughs again and replaces her shades. "Now, how about you tell me what your deal is? Hmm?" They walk into the panic room together, arms around each other. "Don't you worry."

* * *

><p>"There, now. Nice and relaxed," Pamela coos at Anna, who's laying down on a bed. "Now, I'm going to count down from five to zero. When we're at zero, you'll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, okay? Five, four, three, two, one. Deep sleep."<p>

Pamela specifically said no talking, so I tap Dean's shoulder and make him read my lips.

"This is so cool," I mouth.

"Tell me about it," he mouths back.

"Deep sleep," she coos again. "And Hazel and Dean are going to stop talking because I can hear their lips move. Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," Anna says softly, sleepily.

"Now, Anna, tell me... how can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?"

"I don't know. I just did."

"Your father... what's his name?"

"Rich Milton."

"All right. But I want you to look further back... when you were very young. Just a couple of years old." _Damn, Pamela's tone is making _me_ tired._

"I don't want to."

"It'll be okay. Anna, just one look, that's all we need."

"No," Anna shakes her head.

"What's your dad's name?" Pamela repeats. "Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?"

"No. No! No!" she screams, arching up from the bed. The lights flicker, like when the angels stopped us at the cabin.

"Calm down," Pamela says calmly but forcefully.

"He's gonna kill me!"

"Anna, you're safe."

Anna screams again, and the panic room door shuts and locks, trapping my boys and me inside. The bulbs shatter, glass raining down into my hair.

"Calm down. It's all right, Anna."

"Anna?" Dean asks, worriedly, and I keep a firm grip on his arm.

"Dean, don't," Pamela warns. "Wake in one, two, three, four, five. Anna... Anna? You all right?"

Anna sits up slowly, looking at Pamela.

"Thank you, Pamela. That helped a lot. I remember now."

"Remember what?" Sam asks.

"Who I am," Anna says, then looks at me. "Hello, Cara."

"I'll bite, who are you?" Dean asks.

"She's an angel," I answer. "Hello again, Anna. I'd say it's nice to see you, but I'd be lyin'."

"I understand. We didn't exactly part on the best circumstances," she stands up.

"'Best circumstances'? You're damn right, not the best circumstances! You tried to kill me!"

"I wanna know how you know those angels, Hazel," Dean grabs my arm and spins me around.

"I've been to Heaven, Dean," I say simply, my anger fading. "God doesn't like my dad, an' likewise. They got into a little spat, which I couldn't be let in on. So I stayed with the angels for a week until they were done arguin'." She opens the doors and walks back upstairs.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not like the others," Anna tries to placate.

"I don't find that very reassuring," Ruby frowns.

"Neither do I," Pamela wears a matching frown and sits down on a table, in the middle of Sam and Dean.

"So, Castiel, Uriel, they're the ones that came for me?" she asks.

"Yeah," I answer Anna. "Cassie's completely different, but Uriel's still the same pretentious arsehole he was when we first met."

"You know them?" Sam asks her.

"We were kind of in the same foxhole," Anna explains.

"So, what, they're like your bosses or something?" Dean wonders, and I lean against him, my back on his chest and his hands on my shoulders, silently placing my claim.

"Try the other way around," Anna corrects.

"Look at you."

"How did you not figure it out, time bitch? Thought you could see stuff like that," Ruby points out.

"Why don't you take a look at her yourself, hell bitch? Do _you_ see anythin' that isn't human?"

"I bet if Peter was here, he would've figured it out sooner."

"Don't," I say sharply.

"Ooh, hit a nerve, there, didn't I? Where _is_ big brother these days, anyway?"

"Ruby," Pamela warns.

"I've never seen his little shadow out by herself," Ruby ignores her. "Imagine how surprised I was when I saw you at that bar with the Winchester brothers and no Peter-kins."

"Shut. Up," I clench my teeth. "Alright, just shut _up_, Ruby! That's _enough_!"

"He's dead, isn't he? How did Daddy dearest take that, huh? What about Mother, huh, how'd _she_ take it?"

I reach for a lamp to bash her stupid face in, but Dean grabs my arm to stop me.

"Hey, hey, hey, you break it, I buy it, Hazelnut."

"Bobby would understand if I was bloody _killin'_ her with it!" I reach for it again and he grabs my other arm.

"Hell, I'm sure he'd _go_ for it, you beating the bitch to death with a lamp. Probably want me to tape it."

"Great, grab your camera. You're about to get a hell of a _show_!" I try to break free of his grip but he holds me to him tight.

"Ruby, you wanna live, you get out of here. _Now_," he warns. "You saved Sam, and kudos for that, but I still don't like you."

"Hazel, you need to calm down, okay?" Pamela stands in front of me, placing her hands on my legs. "Okay, she's not worth it. She's goading you. And, as much as I hate to say it, we need her."

"M'killin' her after this shit is over," I swear.

"I'll help," Dean agrees.

"I need to go outside. Okay, I promise not to kill her until this is over, it's just- I got to go." I break from their holds and dart outside, breathing heavily, trying not to lose the small grip on reality that I have.

* * *

><p>"Bobby told me you might be up here," Dean says, climbing onto the roof to sit next to me. "Brought your jacket."<p>

"Thanks," I say in a small voice as he drapes it across my shoulders.

"Look, Hazelnut, anyone who knows me'll tell ya that I suck with all that feelings and chick-flick moments crap. I _know_ I suck at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

"S'okay," I wave off.

It's silent before he asks jokingly, "Wasn't too smart to come out here in a t-shirt, huh? I mean, it's like five degrees up here."

"M'not cold."

"Well _I_ am. What d'ya say, Hazelnut? Wanna come inside where it's warm and... watch a movie or something?"

"Do I get to pick?" I ask, tearing my eyes off the stars and the night sky to look at him.

"I guess that could be arranged."

"Then I _guess_ I can watch a movie or something."

"No chick flicks."

And then I shoot him a small smile. "No promises."

Like a gentleman, he lets me go down the ladder first and we head into the house.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC!<strong>

**Reviews are love:)**


	8. Angels pt 2

**Happy Whoday! Sad thing is, no new Doctor Who to watch. Let us all cry for a moment. Currently watching the newest X-Men movie because my parents are making me watch it again. Love Charles's attitude in this first part! Okay randomness over. Smile, because of this new chapter, and wonder when I'll update again because I have no idea what episode to do next. Suggestions are appreciated!**

**Reviews make me write faster!;) I'm not gonna be the one that holds chapters for reviews, but, just review!**

**Also, I'm gonna take the original story down either today or tomorrow.**

**Fluff! Mixed with angst;)**

The Princess Bride** is an actual movie, and is amazing. I suggest watching it after this chapter.**

**Anyway, long note over.**

**Please review!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eight: Angels part two<span>

"We should watch 'The Princess Bride'. Okay, best movie ever," I suggest.

"That sounds suspiciously like a chick flick, Hazelnut," Dean accuses.

"It's not! There's action in it! Adventure, too! And, yes, a bit of romance, but it's a classic! And you said I could pick!"

"I said you could pick if it wasn't a chick flick!"

"Okay, you fail in life. Pamela! Can you tell the ignorant Winchester here that 'The Princess Bride' is one of the best movies of all time?" I call.

"Are you two watching 'The Princess Bride' without me? You suck!" Pamela shouts back as she walks towards us. "'The Princess Bride' is an amazing movie! Can I watch with you?"

"I don't see why not," I smile, placing a hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, why don't you go get Sam-ster and Anna and we can take a break and watch one of the best movies ever made?"

"I suppose that would be okay."

"And if hell bitch wants to watch, then she's stuck on the floor."

"So we're not pissed at her anymore?"

"Oh, trust me, Dean, we're still pissed at her. That's why she's banned to the floor."

Dean, with some persuasion, convinced his younger brother and Anna to come watch the movie with us and Pamela. Ruby researches for a while longer, but ends up joining us (and stays on the damn floor as per my instructions). Dean is an absolute sweetheart, sitting right next to me in the cozy chair-and-a-half and eventually pulls me into his lap. We watch the movie in its completion and fall asleep while doing so.

* * *

><p>I wake up slowly, contently, with strong arms holding me to a muscular chest, and a thin green blanket covering the two of us. Sam's sprawled out on the floor, Ruby and Anna are nowhere to be seen, and Pamela's sipping Starbucks on the other couch.<p>

"Mornin', Pamela," I say sleepily.

"Hey, morning, sunshine. Ruby bought coffee. A peppermint mocha, a regular mocha, and plain black coffee is what's left. I think they're in the kitchen," she informs me.

"Pamela, you're a life saver." In a spur of the moment, I kiss Dean's cheek, waking him up. "Hell bitch bought coffee," I tell him before climbing off his lap and walk to the kitchen. "Want somethin' to eat, Pamela?"

"I already ate, but thank you."

"Well, m'gonna make an entire carton of scrambled eggs with bacon and mozzarella cheese if you change your mind."

"Got any pie left?" Dean appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I crack eggs in a bowl.

"You can look but I don't think so. Hey, pull out the bacon and shredded mozzarella, will you, sweetheart?"

"The what?" he asks, confused.

"Green see-through bag, white shredded cheese. Middle drawer, I think?"

Dean looks in the specified drawer, and pulls out the plastic bag victoriously.

"Bacon, too, sweetheart," I remind gently, and he sets that on the counter, too. "If you wanna finish crackin' these, I'll make the bacon."

"Oh, so I have to earn my breakfast now?" he taunts cheekily and playfully.

"Damn straight you do, Winchester. C'mon, now, don't go slackin' on me now," I goad.

"I am many things, but a slacker, I am not," he smiles and cracks an egg. I pull out a cooking pan and turn the stove on, dropping a small slab of butter in the pan. Then, reaching in front of Dean, I grab a spoonful of flour and set it next to the raw bacon, careful not to spill any. I open the package with the same knife and split the plastic wrap to the sides, carefully laying strips of the meat into the pan and exercising caution to not burn my fingers on the sizzling butter (not margarine, never margarine). "What's the flour for?"

"So the bacon doesn't curl too terribly. Believe it or not, once upon a time my mum loved to cook. Learned everythin' 'bout it I know from her and Jackie Tyler. Mum would demand we take time off from adventurin' and visit," I laugh fondly as I tap the spoon to sprinkle the white powder on the sizzling strips.

"You still do that?"

"Nah, haven't for years."

"What happened?"

"Long story short, Jackie ended up in a parallel universe. Now, normally, the TARDIS can't go to parallel universes, but somethin' happened that let them. One of the things that remains a mystery, I guess. Before my time," I shrug simply.

"How'd you meet her?"

"Now _that_ is a long story."

"Hazelnut, we've got time," he points out.

"You're right," I smile at him, then turn my attention back to the bacon. "But I don't know the whole of it, just the gist. So, my mum was originally born Melody Pond, half-human, half-Time Lord. She grew up in captivity, an' eventually escaped when she was about fifteen. But she was wounded, so she regenerated. But regeneration doesn't always work out the way we want it to, especially at a young age like fifteen. She regenerated into a baby, about two months old. Somehow, she appeared on Pete and Jackie Tyler's doorstep, and they took her in as their own. And she grew up as Rose Tyler, with no memory of bein' Melody. She met m'dad, the Doctor-"

"Why do people call him that, anyway? Doctor who?" Dean interrupts.

"Because. Time Lord names are supposed to be kept a secret. There's a lot of power in a name. There's a species called Carrionites, and they can kill you just by sayin' your name."

"So, 'Hazel' isn't your real name, then," he deduces.

"It isn't the one my parents gave me, no. But s'the one I chose for myself. S'an Earthen name. Allows me t'blend in a little more. So, anyway, my parents met an' they saved each other. Had Peter first, then me about two years later. I was the accident," I tell him, chuckling a bit. "Then, Mum got trapped in a parallel universe when Cybermen and Daleks invaded, an' we couldn't get to her. Ooh, but she was smart. The walls of reality were fallin' apart, an' she made her way back to us. M'not really sure what happened after that, but she was sent away again so Madame Kovarian couldn't find 'er. But she did. She tore apart what we called Pete's World, destroyin' it, took Rose Tyler back, an' forced her to regenerate. Rose Tyler became Mels Zucker, grew up with Rory an' Amy as her best friends, an' well, you were there for the last bit. _Really_ bad adventure for your first."

"Hey, this case is a bad one for _your_ first," he says as I finish cooking the bacon. "Angels, demons, the whole nine yards. Hell, I was hoping for a salt-and-burn, not _this_ fiasco."

"S'nothin', really. This is actually fun!"

"'Fun'? Are you crazy?"

"Oh, 'aven't you heard? All the best people are," I wink. Grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer, I start breaking up the bacon while it's hot, and Dean sneaks a piece. "Oi! I don't need a taste tester!" I whack his hand with the spoon.

"Ow! Slave driver!" I laugh at him as he rubs his hand with an adorable pout on his face.

"Hand me the eggs," I order, purposefully keeping my tone biting but joking.

"See? Slave driver!" Now it's his turn to laugh, but he hands me the bowl of eggs and I pour them into the pan with the bacon grease and bacon bits still cooking. "Oh, my mouth is watering already."

"But I'm not done, yet, Winchester," I smile at him before skirting around him and grabbing the Johnny's Salt, onion salt, and pepper and shake some into the eggs. I stir with the wooden spoon to make sure it doesn't burn, then sprinkle the cheese in.

"So, uh, Peter's your older brother?" Dean asks cautiously. I still in my movements for a moment but quickly start up again. "You don't have to say anything, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay. I just-I-I can't- doesn't this smell good?" I change the subject.

"Yeah, it does," he admits. "You're a good cook."

"Thank you."

"So, uh, why do the angels call you 'Cara'?"

"Part of my name. S'why my parents call me 'Lyra', 'cause that's part of my name, too."

"Why do the angels hate you so much?"

"Well, Cassie's okay, or, well, _used_ to be. Now he's a bit of a bastard. But the other angels hate me 'cause I'm part human, most somethin' else," I wave it off. "Some of 'em are nice, though. Well, Anna used to be an' so did Cassie, but Gabriel is pretty cool."

"That why Anna apparently tried to kill you?"

"Yeah. D'ya know how sharp those damned angel blades are? Nearly took my head off, she did! Would've, too, if it weren't for-" I cut myself off, then raise my voice to a shout. "Sam! Pamela! Whoever else eats food like most creatures on this planet do! I made eggs!"

* * *

><p>I end up going with Dean to drop Pamela back to her house (which takes the whole afternoon and part of the evening), and we have a pleasant time. Pamela and I talk a bit, Dean lets me pick the music, and we stop for lunch. But all too soon, we're saying goodbye, and leaving. And we drive back to Bobby's, talking about everything and nothing.<p>

Anna's leaning against one of Bobby's many clunkers when we pull into the salvage yard.

"Pamela get home okay?" she asks when Dean and I walk towards her, me wearing his blue jacket.

"Yeah, she did," I answer.

"She said she was sorry, it's just after last time, she, uh..." Dean trails off. "This is just a little too rich for her blood."

"I don't blame her," Anna waves off. "You guys should do the same."

"Well, we're not that smart."

"An' I _would_, but I think my vortex manipulator shorted out again," I tell her, a joking smile on my face but honesty in my tone. "Plus, I don't know how to drive, so, kinda hard to leave. Hey, I'm gonna go inside and see if Sam's killed hell bitch yet."

"Doubt it, but okay," Dean smiles.

"Don't be too long, yeah? M'gonna make some hot chocolate."

"Damn, I'm _so_ keeping you around. And we won't," Dean promises, and I go inside with a smile on my face.

"Sammy! Did you kill Ruby yet?"

"Still here, time bitch!" is my answer from not Sam. I swear in Gallifreyan, but walk into the library/study area. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" she laughs.

"My mother loves me," I tell her. "S'my dad that's got the problem with it."

"I'll be right back," Sam announces, walking out of the room. "Don't kill each other."

"Fine," I groan. As soon as he's gone, I plop down on the couch and turn to my phone, completely ignoring hell bitch and playing my favourite game, TwoDots. And level 109 is extremely mean.

"What game are you playing?" Ruby asks.

"I'm still ignoring you," I inform her.

"Are you still bent up on yesterday?" she laughs incredulously.

"Y'know what, Ruby, I actually _am_," I snap and resume ignoring her until my boys and Anna walk in._  
><em>

"What'd ya find, Sam-ster?" I ask. "No-no-no-no-no! Dammit, I died again. Stupid game."

"Union, Kentucky," Sam ignores me and points to a location on a map. "Found some accounts of a local miracle."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Uh, in '85, there was an empty field outside of town. Six months later, there was a full -grown oak. They say it looks a century old, at least."

"Anna, what do you think?" Dean asks for her opinion.

"The Grace. Where it hit, it could have done something like that, easy," Anna says.

"So Grace ground zero- it's not destruction, it's-"

"Pure creation," she finishes.

* * *

><p>Dean chuckles a bit as he glances at the girls in the back seat. And me, in the middle of the fallen angel and the demon. <em>So<em> happy about it, _totally_.

"What?" Ruby asks.

"Nothin'," he waves off. "S'just an angel, a demon, and an alien riding in the back seat. It's like the setup to a bad joke... Or a 'Penthouse Forum' letter."

"Dude," Sam rebukes. "Reality... Porn."

"You call _this_ reality?"

I now hate car rides. And maybe Dean.

But probably not that last one.

* * *

><p>"It's huge," I look at the gigantic tree right in front of us, the sun shining through the branches.<p>

"It's beautiful," Dean corrects.

"It's where the Grace touched down," Anna sucks the fun right out of it. "I can feel it."

"You ready to do this?" he asks her.

"Not really," she admits, and she walks towards the beautiful tree in the middle of the empty field.

"Anna, what are we even looking for?" Sam wonders. She touches the tree almost lovingly.

"It doesn't matter. It's not here. Not anymore."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Someone took it, Cara," she explains.

"Back to square one, then."

* * *

><p>Cold barn. Not cold cabin. Not warm Bobby's house. Hell, not even a warm-<em>ish<em> hotel room. A cold barn with a tool bench to sit on and the hard ground to sleep on.

"Well, we still got the hex bags," Dean points out. "I say we head back to the panic room."

"What, forever?" Ruby argues.

"I'm just thinkin' out loud!" he shouts at her.

"Oh, you call that thinking?"

"Oi, hell bitch, Winchester, put a sock in it, will ya?" I snap. "_Some_ people are on the phone! Drats," I mutter when it goes to voicemail. "Martha, hey, it's Hazel. M'guessin' you're not home, so, if you could call or email me a list of UNIT safe houses near the state of Kentucky in the U.S., I would love you with both my hearts! If you have absolutely no idea what I'm talkin' about or don't have access to it yet, then never mind. Talk to you soon. Bye." I hang up my mobile. "Well, there goes _that_ idea. Carry on."

"Anna's Grace is _gone_, you understand?" Ruby starts up again. "She can't angel up, she can't protect us. Yeah, Hazel's gun might work for a little bit, but we can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side, maybe, but not both. Not at once."

"Um, guys?" Anna interrupts. "The angels are talking again."

"What are they saying?" Sam asks.

"It's weird," she tilts her head, listening. "Like a recording, a loop. It says, 'Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or'..."

"Or what?" the man in question asks.

"'Or we hurl him back to damnation.'"

Dean starts silently and internally freaking out, but I can see it in his eyes.

"Anna," Sam holds up a hand to stop Dean in his tracks. "Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel? Hazel?"

"To what? To kill them?"

"No, Anna, to trap them and have a bloody tea party. Yes, to kill them!" I snap. "My gun would probably work like it did on Alastair, just piss him off. But that wasn't the highest setting on it. I could set it to the highest setting and try that. Or maybe I could trigger a regeneration and aim the energy at them."

"No," Dean says immediately. "No. You're not _killing_ yourself for me, Hazel."

"I never said it would kill _me_! An' who said it was just to save _you_, huh?"

"Enough!" Sam yells, interrupting.

"Nothing we could get to," Anna answers Sam's question. "Not right now."

"Okay, wait, wait, I say we call Bobby," Dean suggests. "We get him back from Hedonism."

"Dean, what's he gonna tell us that we don't already know?" Sam fires back.

"I don't know, but we got to think of something!" And with that, he storms out of the room.

"If Martha gets back to me, we could maybe move to a nearby UNIT safe house. Last resort, though. M'not sure if she works there, yet. The Brigadier isn't answering my calls, and neither is My. But, okay, options," I think out loud. "We've got two hunters, a low-level demon, a fallen angel with no Grace, an' me." Three parts Time Lord intellect and one part human stubbornness and you'd think I could figure out a plan. I don't even notice Anna slip out of the room. "My vortex manipulator's shot, so I can't even transport myself out of here, let alone the five of us."

"You said both Heaven _and_ Hell wanted her, right, Ruby?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, so? We can't get caught in the middle, Sam," Ruby insists.

"But maybe," I muse, "we can get them to duke it out while ignoring us. S'like Time Lords an' Daleks. Neither of the two can stand each other, but when facing the opposite, everythin' else falls away."

"Godzilla and Mothra," Sam compares. I pull my chain out from under my orange top with a cartoon Pooh bear and Eeyore on it and untie the hex bag.

"We burn these, they can find us, right?" I ask, holding it up.

"Time bitch, I _really_ hate you. But you've got a decent plan. Now go get Dean and Anna before they fuck in the back of the Impala."

"I'm sorry, what?" I look at her with a hesitant smile on my face.

"You kidding? Hazel, the woman wants to jump his bones. _Please_ tell me you know what sex is," Ruby says.

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot," I quip back. "But why her? Why _him_?"

"I'll admit, he's changed since he met you," Sam admits. "Hell, he hasn't had sex since the two of you met, and _that's_ saying something. But he might go for the 'last night on earth' spiel if she presents it carefully enough. And I _know_ the two of you like each other. So, go."

"But-"

"_Go_, you insecure idiot," Ruby pushes. "If only to tell them to get in here so we can explain the plan and get some shut-eye."

"Fine, fine, demanding," I accuse but walk out into the cold to get them. "Dean! Anna!" I call. "We figured out a plan!"

"Really?" Dean asks, moving away from Anna (who is awfully close to him) to stand in front of me. I tilt my head to look up at him and offer my hand, wiggling my fingers in invitation.

"Really. An' s'brilliant if I do say so myself. Come back inside. I think I have a space heater stashed somewhere in my duffel."

He takes my outstretched hand and we walk back inside, with an irritated Anna following behind.

* * *

><p>Dean eventually falls asleep, his head in my lap and an ear bud connected to an ACDC Pandora station on my mobile blocking out the stresses of the day. Well, maybe more than just today.

"Hey," Ruby whispers, and I shoot her a glare. "Hex bags. I'm gonna burn them."

"Fine," I whisper back. "Hold on." I hand her mine and carefully pull Dean's out of his pocket. She takes them out the back and goes off to bait Alastair. "Good luck."

"Thanks." And then she disappears from my line of vision, and my hand creeps back into Dean's cropped hair, running my fingers through. I think he likes it, based on the small smile in his sleep. But then, all of a sudden, his smile drops and his face hardens.

"Hey, it's okay," I coo softly. "It's okay, Dean, it's just a dream. Just a dream." I keep running my fingers through his short hair and hum along to the music playing on my phone. He eventually calms, and I gently caress his face as he sleeps.

* * *

><p>"I don't know, man," Sam says doubtfully the next morning. Dean's sitting on the work bench, drinking something from a silver flask, and I'm next to him. "Where's Ruby?"<p>

"Who cares? Hell bitch isn't here, I think we should celebrate," I quip, stealing the flask and taking a healthy drink. "Mmm. Whiskey?"

"Yeah, and it's _mine_ so give it back," he yanks it out of my hand. "And she's your hell buddy."

"Little early for that, isn't it?" Anna asks Dean, walking away from a boarded window.

"It's two a.m. somewhere."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Dean waves off; par to the course, I'm realizing. And then the doors are blown open again by a gust of wind. and slam shut behind the two angels. Sam pulls Anna behind him, and Dean does the same to me.

"Do you two _like_ being predictable?" I ask, pulling my hair back with a hair band, a short little tail about an inch long hanging down my neck. "I mean, seriously, tha's _exactly_ what you did last time."

"Hello, Anna," Castiel completely ignores me. "It's good to see you."

"How? How did you find us?" Sam asks.

Cassie tilts his head towards Dean minutely.

"Dean?" Sammy questions.

"I'm sorry," he looks to Anna.

"Why?"

"Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me, or kill you," she turns her head towards Sammy. "I know how their minds work."

I look at Cas with horror in my eyes. Uriel smirks, and Cassie remains still. _Now I know._

Anna puts her hand on Dean's arm and kisses him on the lips, as if I'm not here. "You did the best you could," she assures him. "I forgive you." She lets him go and starts to walk towards the two angels, and Dean keeps his eyes on her. "Okay. No more tricks. No more running. I'm ready."

She is incredibly brave. _Stupidly_ brave.

"I'm sorry," Cassie apologizes.

"No," she denounces. "You're not. Not really. You don't know the feeling."

"Still, we have a history. It's just-"

"Orders are orders. I know. Just make it quick."

_Facing her own death while showing no fear. Admirable._

"Don't you touch a hair on that poor girl's head," a voice on the other side of the barn orders. I whip my head over to see Alastair and two others holding up a woman I also recognize.

"Hell bitch," I acknowledge.

"Time bitch," she frowns.

"How dare you come in this room," Uriel walks towards them, and Dean yanks me back towards the side wall, "you pussing sore?" The two henchmen throw Ruby onto the ground.

"Name-calling," Alastair accuses. "That hurt my feelings, you sanctimonious, fanatical prick."

"Turn around and walk away now," Cassie orders.

"Sure. Just give us the girl. We'll make sure she gets punished good and proper."

"You know who we are and what we will do." Cassie walks towards the demons. _Damn. So much testosterone._ "I won't say it again. Leave now, or we lay you to waste."

"Think I'll take my chances."

It's like a standoff, the angels waiting for the demons to make their move and vice versa. Until Uriel moves, grabbing one of the henchmen and shoving him in through a wooden post. Cassie moves to Alastair and punches him a few times before placing his palm across his forehead.

"Sorry, kiddo," Alastair smiles evilly. "Why don't you go run to Daddy?" The demon brings his arms up and shoves Cas to the ground. Uriel exorcises the one he was working on, and Alastair grabs the lapels of Cas's jacket. _"Potestas inferna, me confirma,"_ he chants.

I turn to Dean. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

He picks up a tire iron. "If it's bash Alastair's head in, hell yeah." And he does exactly that.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Alastair looks at him. "I am so disappointed. You had such _promise_." And then, using his demonic powers, starts to choke my boys.

"Leave them alone!" I shout, pulling out my sonic pistol and charging it up.

"Last time you used that toy of yours, it did absolutely nothing," he taunts.

He turns his hand on me, but I do not fall.

"What are you?"

I take aim. "I'm a Time Lord." _Dramatic, just like Dad._ And I shoot him, with the blaster on the highest setting.

"Ah!" he cries out, releasing my boys, and flashing blue.

Anna breaks a glass vial on a chain, and light blue mist -_Grace-_ surrounds her and enters her.

"Shut your eyes," she orders. "Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!" I do what she says and she screams, wind billowing everywhere, knocking me to my knees.

And then it stops.

"Hey," Dean says gruffly. "You okay?"

"'M fine," I reassure him. "You? Sam?"

"We're good," Sam tells me.

"Well, what are you guys waiting for? Go get Anna," he says, picking up the knife we'd lost. "Unless, of course, you're scared."

"This isn't over," Uriel makes his way towards us, and I raise my gun to his chest.

"Never shot an angel before," I smile deviously. "Wonder what would happen when the sonic energy vibrated through your poor little vessel."

Cas pulls him back and out of my aim, and I lower my gun.

"Oh, it looks over to me, junkless," Dean places a hand on my shoulder to restrain me.

"Bye-bye," I wave with my free hand, and they're gone.

"You okay?" Sam asks Ruby.

"Not so much," she frowns, her shirt bloody.

"What took you so long to get here?" Dean asks.

"Well, sorry I'm late with the demon delivery. I was only being tortured."

"Serves you right, hell bitch."

"Now, I gotta hand it to you, Sammy and Hazelnut. Bringing them all together, all at once- angels and demons. It was a damn good plan," Dean smiles, throwing an arm around me.

"Yeah, well, when you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass," Sam smiles wryly, "best to get out of their way and let them fight."

"Yeah, now you're just bragging."

"So, I guess she's some big-time angel now, huh? She must be happy... wherever she is."

"I doubt it," Dean frowns.

* * *

><p>I let Dean and Sam-ster have their little moment and walk away from the Impala and to the side of the building, where Cassie is waiting for me.<p>

"What happened to you, Cassie?" I ask him.

"I grew up," he says simply. "You have not. You are still a little girl."

"Sorry to have to tell you this, but I gave up my pigtails and overalls a long time ago. I'm _not_ a little girl anymore."

"Then we _both_ have changed."

I nod and lean against the building, one foot on the ground, one on the wood.

"The Winchesters have become attached to you," he tells me, "Dean especially. And a lot of things have happened recently for them."

"Like what?"

"Dean was in Hell."

I turn to look at Cas and only see blunt honesty.

"I know." I turn my head away and look at the dirt. "How long?"

"Four months up here is forty years down there." _That__ explains why his Time signature was off._

"So... you're saying that... he was _tortured_?"

"Yes. For thirty years, by Alastair. The last ten, though, he did the torturing."

"How did he get out of there? Was it you?"

"Yes. A legion of angels and I. But, I have to know, Cara. Does this information change the way you feel about him?"

"Of course not, Cassie. Who do you think I am?"

"I just had to make sure," he defends, and I catch a quick smile on his face before his features stiffen. "I must go. If you need me, call me, and I will come."

"Bye, Cassie," I smile at him. "And thanks for telling me."

With a fluttering of huge wings, he vanishes from my sight, and I walk back to my boys.

"So," I smile, ignoring Dean's tear-stained face and instead turn my attention to the beer in his hand, taking it and drinking some. "Have I passed the little test, then?"

"I'd say so," Sam says.

"Does that mean I can continue travellin' and huntin' with you?"

"Of course, Hazel," he smiles at me. "You're better at managing Dean than I am."

"Hey!"

"It's true!" Sam protests at his brother. "I think I left my, uh, something in the barn. I'll be back." He hops off the car and walks back into the barn.

"Subtle," Dean laughs without humour.

I climb on top of the hood of his precious car, setting the beer bottle on the roof and pulling on his shoulder so we're eye-to-eye.

"You look at me, Dean Winchester, and you damn well better listen to what I'm about to say. I don't give a flying fuck about what happened or what you've done. All I care about is right here, and right now. And I care about _you_." I bring my hands to his face and wipe his tears away with my thumbs. "You here, with me, right now, s'all that matters."

"Did you listen in?" he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

"You asked me not to, so I didn't," I reassure him. "Cassie told me."

"God, I'm gonna kick his fucking _ass_-"

"Look at me," I order softly, and he tilts his head back up. "I don't care about that, Dean. Nothing you can do will _ever_ make me hate you, got it?"

"Just wait," he lowers his eyes. "Somehow, someway, I'm gonna fuck this up, too."

"Do you really think so low of yourself, sweetheart? Because _that_ makes _me_ sad. Why can't you see how wonderful you are?"

"I'm not 'wonderful', Hazel. I'm gonna hurt you. Why can't _you_ see that?"

"You aren't gonna drive me away_ that_ easy, Winchester." Tears streak down his face at my words, and I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight. "It's okay," I mewl softly.

He leans back after a few moments. With his own hands, he brushes the wisps of red hair that escaped from my ponytail out of my eyes.

"Do you promise?" he asks, hope that he isn't allowing himself to feel in his eyes.

"I _swear_," I reassure him.

He smiles. "That's all I needed to hear."

And he kisses me. And it's perfect. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I taste the alcohol on his breath. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in, taking everything that is Dean Winchester and enjoying every second of it.

And then he pulls back and I open my eyes, my blue ones gazing into his green ones.

"Wow," he breathes.

"You're tellin' me," I smile breathlessly. "That was the first time I've been kissed."

"Seriously?" Dean asks sceptically.

"Yeah," I nod. "Do it again."

His smile grows. "With pleasure."

And he kisses me again.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	9. Nostalgia

**One part instead of two? And not an original chapter? *le gasp***

**That's because I cut out all the flashbacks from Supernatural S4E13 **After School Special**. Thanks to **giddyfan** for the idea for this chapter! This one goes out to you, my one and only reviewer!****_  
><em>**

**I own no one except Hazel *cry sniffle sniffle*. If anything doesn't make sense, feel free to review or to PM me and I will answer as best as I can!**

**Please note: 1.) I am posting this at 1:30 am and I think I might have insomnia so if this is crap or nonsensical please tell me and I will look over it again 2.) no beta 3.) next week (Thanksgiving week) I will be travelling to my aunt and uncle's house to stay the week, and I might not get a chance to write or post anything because of that problem. So be patient! **

**Might get part one of the next chapter up sometime before I leave if my muse decides not to leave again like it did earlier (which is why I asked for ideas lol) and if I get a chance to write it:). I do know what episode I'm gonna do next (and a Christmas chapter after :D), but any suggestions as to what you want to see (whether DW or SPN) or want in the Christmas chapter is appreciated! I definitely know that I'm going to have the three Pond women (Amy, River, and Hazel) go Christmas shopping, but other than that it's kinda in the air. Oh, and I know where Christmas is gonna be. But any suggestions are appreciated and welcomed!**

**Don't forget to review! Reviews keep le muse hogtied and duct taped and stay put so I can write more and faster!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Nine: Nostalgia<span>

As soon as Dean first kissed me, it's like we couldn't stop. We made out in his car, pressed against the motel room walls, at a petrol (which I'm told is called 'gas' here) station. It sometime got to the point where Sam would catch us both shirtless (but my brasserie always remained on and fastened, much to Dean's annoyance) and clawing desperately at the other's flesh, but never past that point. I wasn't ready for that.

"So, we're _where_?" I ask in the car one more time.

"Fairfax, Indiana," Dean drawls, looking at me with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because. Possible case. I like that shirt."

"Thanks," I look down at it and back at him. Just a plain violet shirt with a butterfly on it.

"I'd like it better on the back seat."

"No, you wouldn't," I smile. "You can kiss me with our shirts _on_."

"But where's the fun in-"

Okay, so, he wasn't always the one that instigated things.

"Can you two not act like teenagers making out in the back of the car, please?" Sam climbs in the back seat about five minutes later and slams the door.

Front seat! Hell yeah!

"We were actually makin' out in the _front_ of the car, not the back," I chirp.

"Yeah, she's got a point, there, Sammy," Dean smirks. "So?"

"I think she's telling the truth," he admits. "I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally but not physically? Kinda sounds like demonic possession to me."

"Oh, joy," I mutter sarcastically.

"'Kind of'?" Dean repeats.

"She didn't see _any_ black smoke or smell sulfur."

"Maybe it's not a demon," I muse. "I mean, humans can be vicious, let alone teenage humans."

"Well, I mean, were already here. Might as well check out the school."

"Right, the school," Dean says, looking at the rain on the windshield.

"What?" Sam asks.

"Truman High, home of the Bombers."

"How do you know that?" I wonder. "Did you actually do research?"

"Of course not! Sammy and I went here for a month like a million years ago. So, why are you so jazzed to go back, Sam?"

"I'm not," he protests. "I just think it's worth looking into."

"Alright, well, what's our cover? FBI? Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?"

"Actually, there's three job openings. English teacher, gym teacher, and janitor."

"Dibs on English teacher," I call as Dean starts the car back up to go to the motel. At least this one doesn't have cockroaches.

"I know what visual _I'm_ jacking off to in the bathroom later."

"Dean bloody Winchester!" I smack him hard in the chest. "Can you _not_ be crude?"

"Sorry, sweetheart, that's actually impossible."

* * *

><p>"English!" I smile to my class, writing it on the whiteboard. "Hello, children, my name is Miss Williams." After Rory, of course. Say what you want, but I love my family, as crazy as it is.<p>

"Hi, Miss Williams," they all chorus. I write my 'name' on the board, too.

"Now, I can tell you don't want to be in here and do school. Rather be in Gym, right? Go on, go on, be honest. Who actually wants to do class today? Raise your hands. Don't be shy, I won't be offended."

"But, Miss Williams, what about the assignment for today?" a female student in the back asks.

"It just says to continue workin' on some sort of expository paper. But, I think you could do that at home, don't you? C'mon, students, field trip to the gym! Who knows how to get there?"

"I do, sweetheart," a very full-of-it bad boy wearing a Truman Bombers jacket winks at me.

"M'gonna ignore that an' not send you to detention for flirtin' with the teacher, mister," I rebuke, causing some of the other students to laugh. I slip off my dreadful black stiletto heels and leave them on my desk, shrinking back down to my five-foot-two that I love so much. "What's your name?"

"Chase Matthews, but you can call me anything you want."

"You're due for a smack, you are!" I laugh. "Okay, lead the way. But not you, someone else."

The children get out of their seats and walk down the hall, chattering excitedly towards the gym.

"Go join a team and play!" I order, catching Dean's eye. "Hope you don't mind, Coach, I brought you a few more players!"

"The more the merrier!" he announces. "Go nuts!"

"But not too nuts!" I call as an afterthought. "No head shots or below the belt shots!"

"Yeah, what she said!" Dean cements my word into gym class law. "What happened to the shoes you were wearing?" he asks, looking at my stocking-clad feet.

"_Those_ skyscrapers? Nearly broke my neck tryin' t'walk around in those! An' _you're_ one to talk, knee-high socks!" I laugh, and he wraps an arm around me and kisses the top of my hair. "I hate this bloody business skirt."

"Why, babe? Black looks good on you."

"S'too tight. Can't run in it."

"But it _does_ make your ass look wonderful," he quips, and I smack him.

"Can you _try_ to act like you're an adult?"

"Nope! Why do you think I called dibs on the gym teacher gig before Sam did?"

"Because you're secretly a twelve-year-old?"

"Yeah, I am!" he punches the air, and I turn my eyes back to the dodgeball game and away from the silly man in the gym shorts.

"Oi!" I snap loudly about five minutes of watching later. I reach up and use Dean's plastic whistle around his neck. "What did I say about face shots, Matthews?"

"Five laps!" Dean punishes, and the boy who flirted with me in class (though I keep that little fact to myself) starts running.

* * *

><p>"Did you just say that a kid shoved another kid's hand into a <em>food processor<em>?" I gasp, covering my mouth in disgust.

"And he had ectoplasm leaking out of his ear," Sam finishes.

"If it makes you feel better, Hazelnut, it was that kid that nailed another one in the face and broke his nose," Dean mentions.

"That does not make me feel better, Winchester! They're _children_!"

"Hazel, what does ectoplasm mean in a case?" Sam redirects me, trying to test what I know and getting my mind off of things.

"Bollocks, um... don't tell me, I know this. Um, uber pissed spirit?"

"Got to be ghost possession," Sam-ster adds.

"But to get rid of a ghost, we have to salt and burn the remains. Right?"

"Yeah, but ghost possession's pretty rare, Haze," Dean says.

"Yeah, but it happens," Sam insists. "I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body."

"Alright, so, what, we got a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah, but where? I mean, there's no EMF. Maybe we could find out who it is, at least. You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or something."

"Way ahead of you," Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "I had to, uh, break into the principal's office to get this. Oh, and, FYI, three of the cheerleaders are legal."

"That little tidbit better be for your brother, mister," I warn.

"Never struck you as the jealous type, Hazelnut. Sam, seriously, though. Guess which ones."

"No," Sammy denies, his voice wrought with finality.

"Anyway, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '98. Some kid named Barry Cook."

Sam rips the page from Dean's hands.

"What is it, Sam?" I ask.

"I knew him," he sighs. "How did he die?"

"He slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom," Dean says.

"Hey, at least he went peacefully. S'one of the better ways to die for humans," I point out. "S'was like he was goin' to sleep, Sam."

"That's where-"

"Right where the chick got swirley'd to death, exactly," Dean cuts his brother off. "So, what, this ghost is possessing nerds?"

"And using them to go after bullies, yeah."

"Well, does that sound like Barry's M.O.?"

"Barry had a hard time."

* * *

><p>"C'mon, Hazelnut, don't you know how to use a shovel?" Dean taunts goodnaturedly that night, digging up Barry Cook's grave in jeans and plaid- what I've deemed the Winchester day-to-day normal look.<p>

"But you look so much better at diggin' up a grave than I would, sweetheart!" I call back from the top, a flashlight in my hands.

"Is this gonna be my life now? Is listening to my brother and my friend flirt and seeing them make out gonna be my life now?" Sam moans and flings up dirt with his shovel. My hearts melt just a bit when he calls me his friend.

"Don't forget the whole 'runnin' for your life' bit, Sam-ster," I smile. "Tha's the best part!"

"Oh yes, because running for my life is so much fun," he says sarcastically.

"You know you secretly love it."

"You caught me!" he exaggerates, making me laugh.

"Okay, you two, if you're done laughing, Hazelnut, can you hand me that crowbar?" Dean asks, reaching up for it. I lean down on my stomach and pass the crowbar off to him. He pries the wooden casket open and I jump back at the stench.

"Oh, that's ripe!" I plug my nose. "Worse than Raxacoricofallapatorian slime!"

"Raxa-what?" Sam questions, climbing out of the grave.

"Raxacoricofallapatorian," I sound out slowly. "Big green aliens about eight feet tall. They're fat, have black eyes that blink sideways, an' are made of livin' calcium. An' the planet they live on is as fun to pronounce as their name! Raxacoricofallapatorius."_  
><em>

"You two are a buncha nerds, aren't you?" Dean crawls out of the grave and reaches for the salt container.

"I believe the correct term is a 'pair' of nerds, or a 'couple' of nerds," I point out cheekily.

"Yeah, ex-nay on that last one, Hazelnut." He leans in to kiss me and I push his face away.

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no, not when you're covered in dirt! Take a shower first an' _then_ we'll talk."

"But I don't wanna talk," Dean frowns. "I wanna make out."

"Shower. Alone," I insist.

"Son of a bitch," he swears, as Sam pours salt and gasoline on the corpse. Dean lights a match and throws it in, and the body rises up in violent flames. "So long, Barry Cook."

* * *

><p>Back in the car, Dean and Sam have another one of their little brotherly moments (which I love), and which I stay out of.<p>

"You all right?" Dean begins.

"Barry was my friend. I just burned his bones," Sam frowns.

"Well, he's at peace now, Sam."

"I mean, if Dad had let us stay just a little while longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"

"You read the coroner's report same as me. Barry was on every anxiety drug and antidepressant known to man. School was hell for that kid. His parents had split up. He just wanted out. It was tragic, but it's not your fault. To tell you the truth, I'm glad we got out of that town. I hated that school," Dean tries to console in his own I-don't-do-chick-flicks way.

"It wasn't all bad," he waves off.

"How can you say that after what happened to you?"

"What?" I finally interrupt. "What happened to you, Sam?"

"Nothing, Hazel. Ancient history. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, uh huh, sure, Sam," I don't believe him for a second, but whatever.

* * *

><p>"What's this scar from?" Dean asks softly after he showered and climbed into bed, rubbing his thumb over a little white dot on my arm. Sam's sleeping in his own bed next to us.<p>

"Got my blood drawn from UNIT," I whisper back. "They sucked at it. Scabbed and scarred over. What about this huge red handprint you've got goin' on?"

"That was when, uh, Castiel pulled me outta Hell. 'Gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition'." I cover the red mark with my hand completely, and let him pull me to his chest.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," I tell him, kissing his lips once before turning back around and letting sleep claim me.

"Goodnight, Hazelnut," he says.

* * *

><p>"We came back here so you could talk to a teacher?" Dean asks in disbelief and a little bit of annoyance.<p>

"He's a good guy," Sam insists.

"Well, whatever. Go have your Robin Williams 'Oh Captain! My Captain!' moment. Just make it quick." Dean switches the car off.

"I've got a bad feelin' about this, Dean," I tell him seriously after a minute or two of silence. "I don't think this case is over."

"What makes you say that, Hazelnut?"

"You wanker, I'm serious!" I smack his arm. "That Barry character was depressed, like you an' Sam said. So, why would he haunt the very place he wanted to get away from?"

"Haze, ghosts just turn violent and vengeful sometimes. There's no rhyme or reason to it. This is just one of those things that you can't overthink."

"Ten bucks says that this case isn't over."

"You're on." We shake hands, solidifying the bet, and wait for Sam.

* * *

><p>"Trust me," Dean hands Sam a bottle of alcohol. "This will help." Sam, well, puts it between his legs.<p>

We're not in town anymore, more like the middle of nowhere. At least with universal roaming, I still have a signal so I can play my game.

"That ghost is dead," he threatens. "I'm gonna rip its lungs out!"

"Can't do that, it isn't corporeal," I mention, my eyes still glued to my mobile.

"You know what I mean!"

"It knew my name, Dean. My _real_ name. We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?" Sam wonders.

"Well, maybe it wasn't Barry. Maybe we missed something. We just got to go back."

"I believe a certain Winchester owes me ten bucks," I remind Dean as he looks over a folder. He flips me off.

"No way," he says after a minute of looking over it. "How did we not see this before?"

"What?" Sam and I ask.

"Check it out. Look, Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty, they all rode the same bus," he holds the folder so we can see.

I roll my eyes at his cruel nicknames for the three kids.

"Okay, so maybe the _bus_ is haunted," Sam suggests.

"Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the _school_, but not the attacks. I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just bail."

"Unless this one can. Dean, there's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles, then whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghosts can go wherever they want."

"So a spook just grabs a kid on the bus and walks right into Truman?"

"It's possible."

"Ghosts getting creative. Well, that's super."

"Hey, now all we got to do is find the bus, right?" I speak up after dying pitifully on my game. The damn thing needs an 'undo' button. "Should be easy, yeah?"

"And you've just doomed us, Haze," Dean jokes.

* * *

><p>"Definitely ain't clean," Sam announces, walking through the aisle on the bus, the EMF reader bleeping and warbling like crazy.<p>

"Here, ghosty ghosty ghosty!" Dean calls with a sawed-off filled with salt rounds in his hands and bangs on the ceiling of the yellow school bus with said shotgun. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

"Yeah, 'cause _that's_ gonna work," I smile jokingly from the seat I'm sitting in.

"Hey, you're still a newbie, Hazelnut. You don't know what works or not."

"You don't know _what_ I know, Winchester," I fire back with a wink.

"Man, I don't get it. No one ever died on this bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden in here," Sam says.

"There might be," I look up from my mobile when I run out of lives on TwoDots again. Yes, I'm obsessed. Don't judge me. I pull out my sonic screwdriver and scan for any alien tech that could hide a body, such as a perception filter. "Never mind," I frown when I find nothing. "Nothing alieny here."

"A flap of skin, a hair, I mean hell, a hangnail; something's got to be tying the ghost to this place," Dean points out. "We just gotta find it."

"Can't we just blow the bus up?" I suggest.

"No," Sam kills my idea before Dean can approve it.

I swear in Gallifreyan.

"Hey, what does that even mean?" Sam asks as his older brother rummages around in the front of the bus.

"Oh, um, it's a swear word. In Earth English, it can translate to either 'fuck' or 'fixed point'," I translate.

"Why do those two English words mean the same one?"

"'Cause, if you get yourself caught in a fixed point, you're fucked! You can't mess with a fixed point, else you'll unravel the universe."

"And how do you know if something's a fixed point or not?"

I tap my temple twice. "You just know. My blockers prevent me from seeing timelines, but not fixed points."

"You two! Quit nerd-gasming, I found somethin'," Dean calls. "Got a new driving permit issued two weeks ago."

"Just before the first attack, yeah?" I ask, walking through the row to look over his shoulder (thank god he's sitting down so I can actually do so).

"Yeah. Name of the bus driver is Dirk McGregor Sr. 39 North Central avenue."

"McGregor?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I knew his son."

"Did you know everybody at this school?"

* * *

><p>"So, you were friends with Dirk?" Mr. McGregor asks as he lets us into his home.<p>

"Uh, yes, sir, in high school," Sam answers.

"I don't recall Dirk having many friends at Truman. Here, sit," he gestures to a sofa that will easily fit three. "Sit down."

"Thank you, sir," I smile kindly.

"When did, uh, when did Dirk pass?" Dean questions.

"He was eighteen," Mr. McGregor answers.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I share my condolences. These two idiots on either side of me apparently suck at stuff like that. "What happened, if you don't mind us askin'?"

"Not at all. Well, there was, first, drinking, then drugs, and then too many drugs. And then he just slipped through my fingers. It was my fault," he admits. "I should have seen it coming, you know?"

"You can never predict somethin' like that, sir."

"Dirk, he, uh, well, he had his troubles."

"What kind of troubles?" Dean asks.

"School was never easy for Dirk. We didn't have much money and, well, you know, kids- they can be cruel. They picked on him."

"They picked on _him_?" Sam asks, confused.

"Mmm hmm. They called him poor and dirty and stupid. They even had a nickname for him, 'Dirk the Jerk'. And after what happened to his mother, he-"

"His mother? Ow, Hazel!"

"Don't interrupt him, Sam!" I smack his arm.

"No, it's quite alright," Mr. McGregor chuckles before sobering back up. "Jane, my wife, she died when Dirk was thirteen. Cancer. I was working three jobs, so it fell to Dirk to take care of her. And he was a great kid. He made sure Jane got her medicine. He helped her, cleaned up after her. But, you know, you-you watch somebody die slow, waste away to nothing... It does things to a person. Horrible things."

"I didn't know about his mother," Sam admits.

"He-he wouldn't talk about her, not even to me. Lot of anger in that boy."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, we'd really like to pay our respects, Mr. McGregor," Dean cuts in. "Um, you mind telling us where Dirk is buried?"

"Oh, he wasn't. I had him cremated," he informs us.

"All of him?"

"Dean," I warn in a low voice. I know this is necessary, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"Well, I kept a lock of his hair."

"Oh, that's-that's nice. Where do you keep that?" _How is Mr. McGregor still talking to us for god's sake? Don't humans have more of a creepdar?_

"On my bus, in my bible."

"You keep him with you," I smile softly. "That's sweet. Is that his picture?"

"Yeah," he looks to where I'm pointing.

"He was a very attractive kid for his age."

"Thank you," he cracks a small smile.

* * *

><p>"Wait for it," Dean crouches in a bush after placing road spikes on the asphalt. The buss speeds by about ten minutes later, blowing out the tires and screeching to a stop on the edge of the road. The doors open and a bald man with ectoplasm in his moustache walks out, looking around.<p>

"Dirk!" Sam calls, cocking the shotgun filled with salt rounds. Dean sneaks out and motions for me to go to the kids.

"Winchester," 'Dirk' sneers. "What are you gonna do, shoot me?"

"Don't need to."

Dean wraps him in a rope soaked with salt water, which starts to sizzle. I hop up the stairs onto the bus with a torch in my hand.

"Hello, students!" I beam.

"Miss Williams?" one of the guys asks.

"Oh, you remembered me! M'flattered."

"All right, everybody stay where you are!" Dean comes in and steals my thunder. "You'll be okay!"

"Aren't you the P.E. and English teachers?" an adult in the front seat asks.

"Not really. We're like '21 Jump Street'. The bus driver sells pot. Yeah." Then he looks around for the bible, leaving me to distract them.

"Okay, late 2008, let me think," I mutter. "Anyone been to another country before?" I raise my voice. "Mexico? Canada? Great Britain?"

"It's not here!" Dean shouts to Sam then climbs off the bus.

"Wait, Winchester, what d'ya mean 'it's not here'?" I poke my head out.

"What do you _think_ I mean, Hazel?" is his brilliant retort. Then he makes 'shoo'ing motions with his hands and turns back to the man being possessed by a ghost.

And I thought _my_ life was challenging.

"How'd the game go?" I try, standing between the door and the humans. "Win, lose?"

"What's going on, Miss Williams?" another male student asks. Are there only guys on this bus?

"Bus driver sells pot, like my partner said!"

"I don't believe you for a second. Where's your badge?"

"Where's my _badge_?" I glare at a different student before pulling out my psychic paper. "Here's my damn badge! FBI, now sit down, shut up, and stay."

All of a sudden, Sam fires his gun twice.

"Don't look out the windows! Stay where you are!"

"Did they just kill that guy?"

"What the hell is going on, lady?"

A different student rises from his seat and walks towards me.

"Sit back down, young man!"

"Make me," he says menacingly before cracking my head on the window and darting out of the bus. The gun fires twice more, that I can hear.

"Son of a bitch broke my glasses," I grouse, fumbling in my pockets for a back-up pair until I can repair the frames. The lenses aren't hurt, thank goodness, but it's not like they can be broken. Strongest plastic in the universe.

Dean comes thumping up the stairs and looks through the front before thumping back out.

Something must've happened, because the student screams and the windows brighten with flaming light.

* * *

><p>I'm out until the next morning. And when I wake, it isn't pleasant.<p>

"God, s'too bright in here," I moan, covering my face with a pillow.

"Glad to see you're not dead, Hazelnut," Dean says from across the room.

"Too loud an' too bright. God, I feel like I've downed a bottle an' a half of hypervodka."

"Can you get concussions?"

"Yeah. They bloody hurt. Dean, Time Lords aren't all that different than humans. The outside's identical, s'just the inside tha's different."

"Like what?" he asks, and it sounds like he closes Sam's laptop. The bed dips and he's sitting next to me. I pull the pillow off my face, sit up, and let him hand me my eyeglasses that I repaired last night with help from my sonic before I passed out in the car.

Say what you want about Dean Winchester, but underneath that 'badass' exterior is a person who's just a big teddy bear.

"Two hearts, for one. See?" I take his hands and position them. "An' I've got a respiratory bypass, which is fancy for I can hold my breath for a half hour if I were so inclined. I've got two brains-"

"Two brains?"

"Mmm hmm. Left one controls my left side, right one controls the other. There's a little tube connectin' them, too. An' I don't have to eat, drink, or sleep as often as you do. I can go a day without all three an' be completely fine."

He pulls his hands away from my grip and turns his back.

"Are you afraid of me?" I ask hesitantly, not sure if I want the answer.

"No," he says instantly. "I just never realized how different we were."

"We're not that different, Dean," I tell him gently, my hand on his back and my fingers absentmindedly tracing the Gallifreyan symbol for his name.

"If you were on your planet, right now, how old would you be compared to a human?" he asks after a moment.

"Because of the little bit of human that I have in me, I've matured faster than a pure Time Lord. But, factorin' that in, about the same as a twenty or twenty-one year old human."

He takes that in before asking another question.

"Have you ever had sex before?"

"No," I chuckle once.

"_Can_ you? Like, in the human way?"

"Yes."

And then: "Why do you stay with Sam and me?"

"'Why'? Why wouldn't I?"

"This isn't exactly the most glamorous lifestyle, Hazel." Ooh, no nickname. Mr. Winchester is serious, innit he?

"I don't care."

"You could have the stars and travel to different times and different planets, and you stay on one planet and in one time."

"Beats travellin' with my dad, who'll barely let me out of his sight unless I'm with someone he trusts."

"Sam and me are nothin' special."

"I've never met a human that wasn't important, Dean Winchester. An' _you_ two are no exception. Okay?" I get off the bed and peck his lips once. "Now, let me grab my iMacTab an' we can watch a movie. A proper Disney movie, at that."

We watch 'Maleficent' until Sam shows up with food and soda.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**PLEASE review!**


	10. Transformations

**This is the 'i love this episode but i'm not thrilled with how i wrote it' chapter. I couldn't figure out where to split it in two, so it's just one big chapter 5,794 words long! So be happy about that. Gotta update this quick before I go to the store:) 'cause then it's store, get brother from birthday party, shower, and go to bed early so I wake up early enough so I can go on my trip! Wish me luck!;)**

**FYI:**

I might or might not be able to write the whole of next week (11/23-11/30), let alone update.

**Sorry! It's family:) So, no update until December. Be happy I'm posting this real quick. Shout out to my one and only reviewer **giddyfan** who PM'd me last night and told me to get writing! Hehe I love her, don't you? You can thank her for getting me motivated again.**

**This is the episode **On the Head of a Pin** from Supernatural. I own pretty much nothing except Hazel. Next chapter is the Christmas chapter, which I will start writing AFTER Thanksgiving because YOU HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING to begin Christmas things. So, shame on the people who have their lights up already (jk sorta), listen to Christmas music, and watch Christmas movies before Thanksgiving. i.e., my mom who has been torturing me with Hallmark Christmas movies! *fumes* If you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, then never mind! okay mini-rant over**

**Please review!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Ten: Transformations<span>

Pamela is dead.

Some demon bastard stabbed her, and I was powerless to help. Sam and Dean were in the 'spirit world' which I think is code for a different dimension that coexists with ours. It's been known to happen.

_"I _told_ you I didn't want anything to do with this. Do me a favour? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer to go to Hell for ever introducing me to you two in the first place."_

_"I wish there was something I could do, Pamela."_

_"Don't cry, Hazel. Everybody's got to go sometime, yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

There wasn't anything we could do. Anything _I_ could do, without risking her becoming immortal like Jack or dead. So we gave her a Hunter's funeral (which I learned is like the same thing you do when trying to get rid of a ghost), and we looked for another case.

Sam's driving, I'm in the back seat trying to repair my damn vortex manipulator, and Dean's front seat.

"Ruby will meet us outside Cheyenne," Sam announces. "She's been tracking some leads. Look, I know she's not exactly on your Christmas list, but if she can help us get to Lilith-"

"Man, work with Ruby, don't. I don't really give a rat's ass," Dean waves off irritatedly.

"What's your problem?"

"Pamela didn't want anything to do with this, and we _dragged_ her back into it, Sam."

"She knew what was at stake."

"Oh, yeah, saving the world. And we're doing such a damn good job of it."

"Dean-"

"I'm tired of burying friends, Sam. Ow!" he exclaims when I flick the back of his head. "Hazel!"

"Quit that. You two are doin' a good job, Winchester, trust me. I'm a time traveller. I know these things. Hell, Amy an' Rory are from 2012."

"Great, so we don't blow up the planet. Good to know," Sam says optimistically.

"Like I said, I'm just-I'm just gettin' tired," Dean admits, then turns around to look at me. "Haze, I want you to promise me something."

"What?" I ask.

"Promise me... promise me that we'll never have to bury you."

"You will never have to bury me, Dean. I promise. Now, let's find a motel an' turn in for the night."

* * *

><p>"Home, crappy home," Dean throws his bag and mine (he's such a gentleman when he wants to be) on the floor. Sam switches the light on.<p>

"Good news, I think my manipulator is almost-"

"Winchester and Winchester. And mutt."

"Fixed..." I trail off when I see Uriel.

"Oh, come on!" Dean says irately.

"You are needed," Uriel tells us.

"Needed? We just got _back_ from needed!"

"Now, you mind your tone with me."

"How 'bout _you_ mind your damn tone with _us_," I counter, a hand around Dean's arm to prevent him from killing the douchey angel. With the mood he's in, he might just die trying.

"We just got back from Pamela's funeral," Sam explains.

"Pamela, you know, psychic Pamela? You remember her," Dean accuses. "Cas, you remember her. You burned her eyes out. Remember that? Good times! Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals. So, maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for _five freakin' minutes_!" he yells.

Castiel looks at me with almost hope in his eyes.

"Oi, don't lookit me for help, Cassie," I raise my hands innocently. "M'with them on this one. You two are just runnin' runnin' runnin' 'em without givin' 'em a break. They're human! They need breaks! You can't just whisk 'em away when you have a 'need', they need sleep, unlike you two!"

"We raised you out of hell for _our_ purposes," Uriel ignores me and looks straight at Dean.

"Yeah, and what were those again?" Dean asks, pissed and just plain done. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Start with gratitude."

"Dean, we know this is difficult to understand," Cassie interrupts.

"And _we_," Uriel turns his head to look at Cas and then back at us, "don't _care_. Now, seven angels have been murdered- all of them from our garrison. The last one was killed tonight."

"Demons?" Dean asks. "How they doing it?"

"We don't know."

"I'm sorry, but what do you want _us_ to do about it?" Sam questions. "I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?"

"We can handle the demons, thank you very much."

"Once we find whoever it is," Cas mentions.

"So, you need our help... hunting a demon?" Dean asks.

"Not quite. We have Alastair."

_I don't like where this is going._

"Great. He should be able to name your triggerman."

"But he won't talk," Cassie admits. "Alastair's will is very strong. We've arrived at an impasse."

"Yeah, well, he's like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league."

"That's why we've come to his student," Uriel informs us.

"No," I say instantly, connecting the dots. "Not happenin'."

"Stay out of this, _mutt_, this doesn't concern you." Then he turns back to Dean. "You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we've got."

"Did y'not hear what I just said?" I fire back. "Not. Happenin'."

"Dean. You're our best hope," Cas, well, not begs, but...

"No," Dean denies instantly. "No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas, not this. Hazel's right."

Uriel chuckles and walks towards us.

"Who said _anything_ about asking?"

And then they're gone, Dean included.

I swear loudly and violently in a string of mixed English and Gallifreyan.

"Damn it!" Sam yells. "Is your vortex manipulator thingy fixed? Is there any way you can go after them?"

"Let me call my mum," I fumble around for my mobile phone. "She uses that thing so often, an' she's the one that gave me mine." Once I find it, I hold the home button down to activate Siri, then look for my repair kit. "Phone Mum. It's an emergency," I order.

_"Now calling River Song."_

"Voice dialing?" Sam asks.

"Virtual personal assistant. Starts out as an app to download in 2010, purchased by Apple in 2011."

_"Hello, sweetie. What's wrong?"_ Mum answers.

"I need to get my vortex manipulator fixed. _Now. _S'an emergency."

_"A _Winchester_ emergency, perhaps?"_

"Mother! M'serious! Can you break out?"

_"Don't worry, sweetie, I'll be there in five seconds."_

"Track my mobile signal, an' _please_ get the times right."

"Sweetie, are you doubtin' me?" she appears in a flash of blue light, and I hang up my mobile.

"Thank god, Mum," I dart over and hug her, then hand her my manipulator.

"You've got your repair kit handy?"

"Yeah, it's in my purse," I speed off to go grab it.

"Good to see you again, Sam," Mum smiles at him.

"And you, ma'am," he responds politely.

"Oh, none of that 'ma'am' stuff. My name is River. Feel free to use it."

"Here," I hand the kit to her, and she pries the back of the manipulator off and sets it all down on the little table.

"Have we done first Christmas with them yet, sweetie?" she asks as she works.

"No. Last thing for me was when you regenerated from Mels to River," I tell her.

"Last thing you did with your boys?"

"Pamela died the other day."

"Ooh, early weeks, then."

"What's the last thing you did with me, Mum?"

"You haven't done it yet," she waves off and fiddles around with some wires. "What the _hell_ have you done to this thing? It looks like Strax tried to take it apart an' put it back together with a sledgehammer."

"I sonicked it to take passengers."

"Well, what'd you do _that_ for?"

"Didn't have much of a choice, Mum, there were demons everywhere tryin' t'kill us!"

"Okay, okay. Calm down, sweetie, I'm almost done. Why d'ya need it fixed s'bad anyway?"

"Castiel isn't who I thought he was," I make out through clenched teeth.

"_Oh_, you're at _this_ part. Uriel, Castiel, Alastair? Angles bein' murdered?"

"I tell you all about it?" I guess.

"When the time comes, yes. Dean's at an abandoned warehouse. But I can't tell you where."

"Why?"

"Because, Lyra. I'm only doing what future you tells me. Sam has to wait here for Ruby. An' I input the coordinates into the vortex manipulator that will take you to him. But you can't share them."

"But why?" Sam interrupts. "Wouldn't it be easier for her to take me with her?"

"Yes, but you _learn_ l somethin' here, Sam," Mum informs him. "Somethin' Ruby teaches you, much as I hate to say it. I hate that bitch. But it's necessary for future events."

"Fine," I accept. "But don't tell us anythin' more."

"I won't," Mum promises. "I think I've almost- there!" The vortex manipulator beeps excitedly. "All fixed. Here, Lyra," she hands it to me, and I fasten it back around my wrist. "Be safe."

"I promise." And with that last bit, she uses her own vortex manipulator and vanishes from our sight. "Sam-"

"Go," he orders. "I'll call Ruby. And listen. If he has to do what I think he has to do, he's not gonna want you anywhere near that."

"Oh, he's not gonna turn me away _tha'_ easy, Sammy," I assure him with a smile on my face. "I'll keep an eye on 'im. An' I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," he cracks a small smile, and I disappear in a flash of blue light.

* * *

><p>"Y'know, I'm starting to think Junkless has a better sense of humour than you do," I hear Dean say from inside. I landed right in front of the warehouse Mum had been talking about, and I force the doors open.<p>

"Castiel!" I call murderously, moving through the warehouse until I find him and Dean.

"Cara-"

"Don't you 'Cara' _me_, mister!" I shout at him, rising to my full five-foot-two. "I said _no_. _Dean_ said no!"

"I have orders-"

"'Orders'!" I repeat incredulously. And then I reach up and slap him. "You have _changed_, Castiel, and _not_ for the better. What happened to the little angel with the black wings that wondered why I didn't have any?"

"I grew up!" he finally raises his voice to me. "And I suggest you do the same!"

"Don't you take that tone with me," I threaten darkly.

"What's going on, Cas?" Dean interrupts. "Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"

"My superiors have began to question my sympathies," my old friend completely ignores me and looks solely at Dean, calming himself down.

"Your sympathies?"

"I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions, the doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement. Plus, my association with Cara makes things even more difficult, seeing as she is on Earth by herself."

"Don't need to be babysat, Castiel. I'm an adult. Nearly a century old," I argue indignantly.

"Well, tell Uriel or whoever," Dean begins before walking a few steps away and turning his back, "you do not want me doing this, trust me."

"_Want_ it? No," Cas admits, saying that part to my face. "But I've been told we _need_ it."

"You ask me to open that door and walk through it, you will not like what walks back out."

"For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this."

"Hazel, you need to go," Dean says, his back still turned.

"I'm not leavin'," I argue stubbornly. "No way."

"Hazel-"

"You willin' t'shoot an' kill me, Dean? Because that's what it'll take to make me leave you here all alone."

"Just use your damn wrist strap and _go_, Hazel!" he turns around and yells at me.

"No! Tha's _not_ gonna 'appen!" I scream back at him.

Dean strides to me, and kisses me so hard and so passionately, it feels almost like he's kissing me goodbye. He hugs me tight, and then releases me.

"Don't go in there," he orders, tilting my chin up so I can look into his eyes. "And whatever you hear, that's not me. Okay, that-that _monster_ that will be in there with Alastair, that is _not_ me."

"I know," I say softly. "It'll be okay, Dean. Trust me on that. Okay? We'll make it through this, the angels will get the answers they need, an' then we're takin' a break. Christmas is comin' up soon, yeah?"

"Yeah," he closes his eyes tight (to hold tears in, I'm guessing) and then opens them, caressing my face with his hand. I lean into his touch. "Yeah. Okay, we'll do Christmas. Tree, presents, decorations, whatever you want. Whole nine yards."

"No supernatural shit, no extraterrestrial shit, no time travelling shit," I promise. He kisses me once more, softer and sweeter, and lets me go. He leaves me his jacket, which I put on and inhale his scent.

"You keep her safe," he orders Castiel. "Don't let her go in there. Keep her out here or wherever she wants to go, just not in there."

"M'stayin' right here, sweetheart," I reassure him.

"She will be safe with me, Dean," Cas vows. With one last look at me, he walks into the room where Alastair is bound, and slams the door behind him. The screams start up not long after, breaking my hearts.

"I hate that you're makin' him do this, Cassie," I admit with tears streaking down my face.

"I know," he says simply. I take a seat on the floor, curling his jacket closer to me.

"I don't think you do!" I snap at him. "It's breakin' my hearts, Cassie. Tha' is somethin' he didn't wanna become, an you're forcin' 'im to."

"You really care about him, don't you?" he asks.

"I've never felt this way before about anyone, Cassie," I say, nodding once, and try to drown out the demon's screams with my own thoughts.

* * *

><p>An hour later, and the demon is still screaming, still taunting at my Dean. And when I hear my name fly from Alastair's lips, that's when he screams the loudest. All of a sudden, the lights start buzzing until a light bulb shatters, and Anna appears.<p>

"Anna," Cassie says as some sort of greeting.

"Hello, Castiel. Cara."

"Hi, Anna," I say, heartsbroken, too miserable at what Dean is being forced to do to snap at her.

"Your human body."

"It was destroyed, I know," she explains to him, walking closer to the angel with the hidden black wings. "But, I guess I'm sentimental. Called in some old favours, and," she trails off.

"You shouldn't be here. We still have orders to kill you."

"Somehow, I don't think you'll try. Where's Uriel?"

"He went to receive revelation."

"Right." Alastair's screams pick up again. "Why are you letting Dean do this?"

"Forcin' s'more like it," I inform her, my eyes red from crying. I turn to my mobile phone to try to distract myself with my game.

"He's doing God's work," is Castiel's explanation.

"Torturing? That's 'God's work'? Stop him, Cas, please. Before you ruin the one real weapon you have."

"He's not a weapon!" I snap at her. "He's a human being! He's not some sort of gun or knife you can manhandle an' manipulate!"

They ignore me.

"Who are we to question the will of God?" Castiel retorts.

"Unless... this isn't his will."

"Then where do the orders come from?"

"I don't know. One of our superiors maybe. But not him. The father you love..." she walks to Cas and gets up in his personal space, "you think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous? What you're feeling, it's called doubt."

Alastair starts screaming again, and I try to cover my ears to block out the sound. It doesn't work.

"These orders are wrong," Anna continues. "And you know it. But you can do the right thing. You're afraid, Cas. I was, too. But together, we can-"

"Together?" he interrupts, wrenching his hand from her grasp. "I am nothing like you. You fell! Go," he orders, walking away from her and closer to me. To keep an eye on me, I'd guess.

"Cas," she tries one more time.

"_Go._" And with a fluttering of wings, she does.

* * *

><p>Hour two. The screams intensify and die down. Alastair mentions me again and his screams crescendo violently.<p>

"Will the person he's wearin' feel any of that?" I ask, breaking the not-so silence once I died on my game, yet again. Damn level 115. Although, I'll admit it, I'm a bit distracted.

"No," Cas says, and I can't tell if he's lying for my benefit or not.

* * *

><p>Third hour. Sam hasn't shown up yet. I'm getting tired of listening to this and wonder if it will ever really end, or if I'm trapped in some sort of time lock. I know I'm not, but that's what it seems like.<p>

"Do you remember, when we were younger, you asked me why I didn't have wings?" I ask without waiting for an answer. "We were the best of friends, back then. Gabriel was in charge of the little fleshlings such as yourself. He would pretend to punish us for the antics we got up to, but was secretly pleased. Where is Gabe?"

"No one knows," Cassie admits. "Some believe him to be dead."

"What do _you_ think?"

"I think... he is hiding, somewhere."

That's a good enough answer for me, so I continue talking.

"The only time I ever went to Heaven was when Dad took Donna an' Peter an' me back in time to watch the planet bein' formed. Did y'know there's an old Racnoss warship as the core for this planet? God was so pissed at us for snoopin', he brought us to Heaven an' demanded to speak with Dad. Michael was the one that brought him to him, leavin' Donna alone with us."

"Where is Peter?"

"Dead," I say bluntly.

"How?"

"He, uh," I take a shuddering breath. "He got shot by a Dalek protectin' me. Didn't wait for Dad, the little bastard. Mum had just gone back to Pete's World for her own protection. Peter, he yanked me out of the way an' got 'imself shot. Tried to regenerate on 'is own, an' couldn't sustain it. He exploded into ash."

"I am sorry."

I doubt it. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know the feeling.

"D'ya remember when you took me flyin'?"

"Yes."

"We made cloud angels," I crack the smallest of smiles.

"You almost fell through the cloud."

"You almost did, too, mister. Don't you forget that."

* * *

><p>Hour the fourth. About ten minutes in, the screams stop. Completely. No Alastair taunting, no Dean yelling at him.<p>

"Is it supposed to be that quiet?" I ask fearfully.

"Stay here," Castiel orders before sneaking in. Then there's sounds of a fight. Alastair taunting again, and then more fighting. Against my better judgement, I walk towards the room.

Castiel and a free Alastair are fighting. Dean is lying on the floor in a crumpled heap, and I can't tell if he's breathing or not, which terrifies me more than it probably should.

"Dean!" I call his name, rushing to him.

"Oh, look who decided to join us," Alastair smiles darkly from where he had Castiel pinned to a post, his hand on the angel's throat. "The little alien mutt."

"You better hope Cassie kills you first," I threaten, frantically checking him over. He has blood _everywhere_, and I can't tell what is his and what isn't. It's too mixed together, I can't separate it.

"This little celestial roach isn't gonna do anything after I'm done with him. And then I'm gonna torture little ol' you, just for kicks."

"Been there, done that, got the fuckin' t-shirt. You can't be any more cruel than UNIT was."

"I really wish I knew how to kill you, 'Cassie'. But all I can do is send you back to Heaven. _Omnipotentis dei potestateminvoco_," Alastair starts chanting. Once checking that Dean has a heartbeat (albeit a faint one), I realize that I left my gun behind when I went to search for him in the first place. So, I grab one of the knives off the table and stab Alastair in the back with it. "Oh, you bitch. But I'm not done with your 'bestest friend', yet."

"Yeah, you are," Sam walks in, raises his hand, and sends Alastair crashing into the wall. Cas, bloody, slumps to the floor.

"Stupid pet tricks," Alastair sneers. I head back to Dean and gingerly pull his head in my lap, knowing there's nothing I can do for him here except to keep him breathing and his heart beating.

"Please don't die," I plead softly. "M'not done with you, yet, Winchester, you _can't_ die. I forbid it." I say that last part in hopes that he'll inform me that I can't tell him what to do, but he remains unconscious. "You promised me Christmas, an' I'm gonna hold you to tha'."

"Who's murdering the angels?" Sam questions harshly. "How are they doing it?"

"You think I'm gonna tell _you_?" Alastair retorts. _Goddess_, I fucking hate that demon.

"Yeah, I do." He does something or other, because Alastair's eyes roll to the back of his head and he starts gagging. "How are the demons killing angels?" Sam shouts.

"I. Don't. Know!" Alastair chokes.

"Right," Sam doesn't believe him for a second.

"It's... not... us," the demon struggles out. "We're... not doing it!"

"I don't believe you."

"Lilith... is not behind this. She wouldn't kill seven angels. She'd kill a hundred, a thousand." Sam drops his hand at Alastair's words and the demon pants heavily. "Oh, go ahead. Send me back, if you can."

"I'm stronger than that now. Now I can kill." Sam raises his hand again, closes his eyes, and concentrates. Alastair's body starts flickering bright yellow and he groans and screams. And then he crumples, dead, eyes wide open.

"Cassie!" I call panickedly. "Dean's pulse is fading!"

"Dean!" Sam darts over to us and feels for an almost nonexistent pulse. "Cas, you gotta do something."

Castiel walks over to us, places two fingers on Dean's forehead and grabs my manipulator (because angel and demon powers don't work on me, mixed DNA and all), and makes us three vanish, leaving Sam behind.

* * *

><p>"I need help!" I scream, darting into the busy emergency room. "Please, someone help me! He's outside!"<p>

"What happened?" a woman in scrubs asks me.

"He-he got hit by a car! I don't know what to do, please, help us! I think he stopped breathin'!"

The woman motions for three others to follow, and I lead them to the car-_parking lot_. They gently lift Dean onto a gurney and wheel him straight into an operating room.

"Will he be okay?" I ask with tears streaking down my face.

"They'll do everything they can to save him; he's in good hands," the woman reassures me. "We have the best surgeons in the state. What's his name?"

"His name is Dean, but that's all I can give you," I tell her, pulling out my psychic paper and trying to compose myself. "He's a material witness in the case I'm workin' on. I can't fill out anythin' or-or give you any other information on him. But his brother'll be comin' in as soon as he possibly can, an' can give you all the information you need."

"FBI?" she asks.

"Yeah," I sigh.

She walks away and heads back to her post, and I walk outside call Sam.

"Sam? Yeah, Cassie brought 'im to the closest an' best hospital. I used my badge; they won't ask too many questions. An' I only gave them his first name. Yeah, I'll see you soon."

* * *

><p>Eighteen hours. That's how long they're in the operating room for. Then he's taken to the ICU. Dean's on a ventilator, and they say some sort of coma. He's hooked up to so many machines and wires, and he might not wake up. Sam says he'll pull through, he always pulls through, but I don't know. I thought my hearts couldn't break any more than they already have, but I am proven wrong.<p>

Castiel stands outside the doorway three days later, and I motion for Sam to go talk to him. They go down the hall, out of my earshot. I stay with Dean, my hands grasping his left one, the one with the least amount of tubes and wires in it. Sam comes back about a minute later and reclaims his chair.

"What did he say?" I ask.

"He won't heal him," Sam fumes.

"This was _his damn fault_. _He_ made the trap. _He an' Uriel_ said Dean had to do this, an' he _didn't_. I don't know 'im anymore. He's changed, an' _not_ for the better."

_I can't do anythin' t'save 'im, Cassie. He might not wake up._

* * *

><p>A week later, and no change. Cassie's still being a 'dick with wings' as Dean calls them. We still have no idea (and I'm beginning to think we won't) on who was behind the murders of the seven angels. I did call my mother, like she'd told me to, and told her everything she needed to know.<p>

The doctors keep telling us that he probably won't wake up, and that we should take him off life support. The last time they did that, I warned them that I was not only a FBI agent, but a UNIT one as well, and if they kept spouting such nonsense, I'd take them in for pestering family members about a decision that had already been made. They then asked me if I was threatening them; I informed them that I was _promising_. Sam high-fived me, albeit a depressed one since Dean still wasn't waking up. Can high-fives be described in such a way? Maybe not. But Sam and I, we weren't exactly in the highest of spirits. The only times we left Dean's bedside was to shower and to get food, which we did in turns; in case he woke up, he wouldn't be alone.

"You really like him, don't you?" Sam asks randomly.

"Yeah," I admit. "I really do like your brother, Sam-ster."

"For what it's worth, he's never acted like this around other girls. He's that 'love-them-and-leave-them' type. But with you, he's... I don't know, different. I honestly think that this is the longest relationship he's had in a long time."

"One night stand king, eh?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. "You have no idea how accurate that title is."

"We 'aven't even had sex yet. He did ask me though if I could the same way a human could," I laugh a little bit, rubbing my thumb across the back of Dean's hand, paying caution to the tube in his hand.

"TMI, but, that there means that he's serious, Haze, if he's been waiting for the right moment."

"Does... does all this -the kissin', the hand holdin', the cuddlin' up in bed- does tha' make 'im m'boyfriend?"

"Have you never had a serious relationship before, Hazel?" Sam asks.

"I've never been left on a planet all by myself before, Sam, much less had a boyfriend," I admit, looking straight at him, then back to Dean.

It takes a moment for him to answer, but he does.

"I'd say so, but Dean isn't the 'labeling' type. In his mind, he probably calls you his girlfriend. But, he's chicken, and he might not say it out loud."

"Mmm," I say noncommittally.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab a coffee. You want one?" he offers, rising from his chair.

"Is that a serious question?" I counter, cracking a small smile.

"Hey, you never know, Haze. You might not want coffee someday."

"And I will cry when that day comes," I joke with him, and he walks away and out of the room.

Once Sam is gone, I look straight at Dean.

"I wish you would open your eyes for me, sweetheart," I say softly, rubbing my finger across the stubble on his face. "S'incredibly selfish for you to keep them from me. I like lookin' at them." I sigh when I, expectedly, don't get any form of response. "I think I should also inform you that this whole not-answerin'-me thing is gettin' pretty old, too." Still nothing. "Y'know, when you promised me Christmas, that means that you an' Sammy are gonna have to go with me to pick out a Christmas tree for Bobby's. An' help me decorate it." Oh, for God's sake. "Sam died. _I_ died. Sam crashed the Impala. Seriously, I thought that last one would work. Dammit."

* * *

><p>Someone with healing capabilities must've done something, because a few hours later, he wakes up. Panicked, and not happy with the tube down his throat, of course. Man, talk about primitive medicine. Well, anyway, he calms down thanks to me and Sam, they take the tube out, and I couldn't be happier. Well, him being out of here would make me happiest, but, well, oh just shush.<p>

"I'm so glad you're okay," I tell him as soon as the nurse leaves, kissing Dean right in front of his brother. Then I lightly smack his arm. "Don't you _dare_ do that to me again, Dean Winchester."

"I'll try not to," he says raspily, his voice marred from days of misuse (not to mention that damn tube). He does crack a small smile, though. "Hey, when do you think I'll be able to get out of here?"

Sam and I share a look. Mine says, 'Is he for real?'; his says, 'He hates hospitals.'.

"None of that," Dean protests halfheartedly, and I smile at him.

"We're not even going to gratify your answer with a response, sweetheart," I say sweetly.

"I can honestly say that your girlfriend scares me, though, Dean, so I wouldn't push on this," Sam speaks up.

"Well, that doctor was a douchebag. All I did was tell him that," I say defensively.

"You threatened to arrest him, actually," Sam smiles amusingly.

"He had it comin'!"

"Yes, he did; but it's a good thing that he works at a hospital, because you might have given him a heart attack."

"Oh, now you're just makin' stuff up, Sam-ster."

"No, Hazel, no I am not."

"You're full of it," I laugh. "Don't listen to a thing your brother says, Dean, I think he's had too much hospital food."

"Well, at least I didn't have coffee every five minutes."

"I did _not_!" I crack up again at Sam's words, and he laughs, too.

* * *

><p>When the nurses leave us alone for the night and Sam's back at the motel, that's when Dean starts.<p>

"Hazel?" he calls softly. I look up from my game into the eyes that I have missed so much.

"Yeah?"

"Do you hate me?"

"Never," I deny instantly.

"Are you," he blinks and takes a deep breath, "are you afraid of me?"

"If I was afraid of you, Dean, I wouldn't have stuck around. Honest."

"Not sick of us, yet?"

"Nope," I crack a small smile.

"Hey, uh, what happened to Alastair?" he turns serious again.

"Sammy killed him," I tell him. "Good riddance, too. I fucking hated that demon."

"He said I was the first seal. He said that I started this whole mess."

"But you told me that demons lie," I try to comfort him, grabbing his hand.

"Yeah, they do, unless the truth hurts more."

"Well, I don't care if you did or if you didn't. You've had a long day, just go to sleep."

"But how can you say that, Hazel?"

"Because it's the truth, Dean. I don't care if you started this whole mess. Why should I? You were in _Hell_. You didn't know. If I was in your place, I would've done the exact same thing."

"But-"

"Have I ever told you why I don't have a planet?" I interrupt, and he shakes his head. "There was a war. They called it the Last Great Time War, and it affected everyone everywhere and everywhen in the universe. Daleks are machines that have only one emotion (hate) and only one purpose (to kill anythin' that isn't Dalek). The Time Lords stood up to them, an' said, 'This isn't right!' But eventually they reached Gallifrey. An' they started killin' all the Time Lord men, women, an' children. But m'dad, he stopped the Daleks at the cost of the Time Lords. It was a desperate attempt, but it worked, for the most part. Daleks, unfortunately, are still around. M'startin' t'think that they'll always be around. But the Time Lords, save Dad, and Gallifrey, aren't. So, y'see, I don't care. Now shift over. M'not sleepin' in this chair again."

I crawl under the sheets and rest my head on his white-t-shirt-clad chest. And, listening to his strong heartbeat, we fall asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	11. Christmas pt 1

**Alright, peeps, this is split into two! Why? Because I'm not even done, and am at 7,803 or something like that. This part is 4,666, and that's not even at Christmas Eve. And I'm sure you're tired of waiting, so, here ya go!:D**

**Um, let me see, uber-fluff, pretty much. I don't think there's any angst or anything. Please tell me if anyone is weird or anything. Um, I don't think I have anything else to say. So, well, yeah.**

**Merry Christmas! And please review!**

**Oh, and **giddyfan**, as much as I truly loved your little gift to me, I can't fit it in anywhere!;( If you don't mind, I could post it separate at the end of next chapter, though! This and next chapter are my gift to you xoxo**_  
><em>

**(for future reference i.e. next chapter **x** is kisses and **o** is hugs)**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eleven: Christmas part one<span>

Dean was in the hospital for one more day after he woke up, a fact that he was _definitely_ not happy with. Sam was right, he hates hospitals. In fact, the doctors wanted to keep him three days, but he signed himself out AMA (against medical advice). Me and Sam weren't pleased, and I forced Dean to sit in the back seat with me on the way to Bobby's. Couldn't have him fall asleep at the wheel, could I?

Yes, Bobby's. I called him and asked if we could do Christmas at his house. He said yes, of course we could; well, after I puppy-dog-eyed him. And he didn't say 'of course', more like, "Fine, ya damn idjit! Do what the hell you want!" Bobby also informed me that the last Christmas the Winchester boys had was right before Dean went to Hell, and before that they hadn't really celebrated. I was determined to make this Christmas awesome.

* * *

><p><em>19.12.2008<em>

"Bobby!" I call through his scrap yard as soon as Sam pulled in and I hopped out of the car. "We're ba-ack!" Instead of Bobby meeting me at his front door, Cooper does, tail wagging happily and jumping on my shoulders to give me a bear-hug. "Hiya, sweetie!" I beam, rubbing his furry sides. He lets me go and heads to Sam and Dean.

"Hi, dog," Sam greets unenthusiastically, grabbing the bags and talking them into Bobby's house. Cooper follows him in hopes for a belly rub. Dean climbs out of the car and wraps an arm around me.

"Dog, huh?" he asks.

"Uncle Bobby is impervious to my charms," I smile cheekily. "And, since _somethin'_ killed Rumsfeld, it was too quiet 'round here."

"Demon. Demon bitch killed Rumsfeld."

"Did you kill her back?"

"Yep," he informs me.

"Mmm, thank you, sweetheart," I peck his lips before heading inside to the light and the warmth.

I find Bobby at his desk, a glass of alcohol on the flat wooden surface, and books in front of his eyes.

"Hiya, Uncle Bobby," I kiss his cheek before stealing the books and slamming them shut.

"Hey! Hazel!" he gripes.

"S'almost Christmas!" I protest. "No cases!"

"But-"

"Do you know how many days there are until Christmas, Uncle Bobby?" I ask seriously. "Six. Six _days_ until Christmas morning. Which means, in a few minutes, it'll be five. You don't even have a tree yet!"

"We'll get one tomorrow, Haze. Gimme my books back."

"Sorry, can't do that. You can 'ave 'em back later."

"Hazel," he says in warning.

"Can't hear ya, gotta go to bed, g'nite, Bobby!" I rush out before darting up the stairs and jumping on the bed. Then I bend over and hide the books under the bed on the floor. "Don't you touch my bum, Dean Winchester," I warn, knowing where his thoughts go and sensing him in the room.

"You're so mean, Hazelnut," he moans, and I feel him sit down on the bed.

"No, I'm not," I protest, sitting back up and laying down next to him. "Ten bucks says Cooper will find his way into our bed tonight."

"Oh, joy," he says sarcastically.

"Pshh, you love him. Don't even deny it." I curl up to his bare chest and trace his tattoo with my finger. "What's your tattoo for? You've never told me."

"Keeps demons from riding me like there's no tomorrow."

"Such a way with words, you have, Winchester," I say wryly.

"What? It's the truth."

"You could be more... articulate."

"You tryin' to change me, woman?"

"Nosir, wouldn't 'ave you any other way. Now shut up so we can sleep. Tomorrow you an' Sammy are gonna help me pick out a Christmas tree."

He groans, making me laugh a little bit.

* * *

><p><em>20.12.2008<em>

"Sam! Real live Christmas tree, c'mon! Let's go!"

"Why can't we get a fake tree?"

I gasp quite dramatically and clutch at my hearts.

"A _fake tree_? Are you bloody _mad_?"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean comes up and claps his brother on the back twice. "If Hazelnut wants a real tree, she can clean up after it."

"Oh, no. You promised me Christmas, mister. Tha' means you get to help with everythin', too," I point at Dean.

"Son of a bitch," he swears. "Fine! Damn woman." Then he climbs in one of Bobby's working pick up trucks and slams the door.

"He promised you Christmas?" Sam asks softly, astonished. I nod. "He is _so_ whipped," he laughs, loud enough for his older brother to hear.

"I heard that!" he protests.

Sam-ster retorts with a whip-cracking sound.

"I call middle!" I beam, sliding in next to Dean and burrowing in under his arm so it's wrapped around me. The truck smells like cigarettes, cigars, and alcohol. Kinda compares to the Impala in that way. "Okay, so, we're gonna get a Christmas tree, lights, ornaments- we should probably go to Target. I like Target. Target is cool. Not Walmart, though. Walmart is not cool. Walmart is huge an' busy an' filled with cross people tryin' to do last minute shoppin'."

"Great. Let's make things even _more_ complicated," Dean complains, driving off onto the main road.

"It'll all be worth it once Christmas Day comes. Mum an' Amy are gonna come cook with me. Between us three Pond women, nothing will burn an' everythin' will taste good!"

"Who's all comin' for Christmas, Hazelnut?"

"Um, my mum an' Dad, Amy an' Rory, an' whoever you two invite." But something tells me (i.e., Bobby) that those two chuckleheads won't be inviting anyone. I make a mental note to go through their phones later. "Dean, drive faster!"

"This old thing won't _go_ any faster, Hazelnut."

"Are we almost there?"

"Yeah, Hazel, it's just up the road. Right there, see?" Dean points to a set of wooden stands with trees leaning up against them. He turns on to the little side road and parks the truck on the edge.

"It's wonderful," I beam. "Come on!" I hop out of the truck and stand next to it, taking it all in. "Look at all the trees."

Dean and Sam stand on either side of me, almost apprehensive to go into the neat rows of the evergreen trees.

"Oi, you two aren't here just for looks. C'mon, I need some muscle. The tree we get isn't gonna just walk itself to the car, y'know. Help me pick one out," I order, grabbing onto their hands and pulling them with me into the forest of cut trees.

They've got Christmas music playing on a set of loudspeakers set up at the entrance. Carrie Underwood, 'Do You Hear What I Hear'.

"Go look," I give them free reign and ditch them at the entrance, heading down my own aisle. I run my fingers across every tree, judging how they feel.

Too prickly. Too stab-ish. Not strong enough branches. Too weird-looking. Thin at the top. Not enough branches.

"This was really cool of you to do," Sam sneaks up behind me.

"Trust me, m'doin' this for completely selfish reasons. I _love_ Christmas."

"Dean used to. Then, I don't know, we just stopped celebrating. Then, last Christmas-"

"Say no more," I interrupt. "Bobby told me."

"Hazelnut! Sammy!" Dean calls from across the lot. "What about this one?"

"Dean promised me Christmas," I tell Sam as we walk. "I don't think he knows _just_ how much he promised, though. Seriously, Christmas and me? Oh, you better watch out. I find it a shame that it's too late to do the advent calendars, though. Oh well. Next year."

"Next year?"

"Well, I hope I'm here for that long. Don't see m'self leavin' anytime soon, but I've learned that when it comes to time, she's a cruel mistress. Oh, Dean, tha's a wonderful tree!" I beam, rubbing a hand down his arm. "Tall enough so the star touches the ceilin', an' sturdy-lookin enough so all the ornaments fit. You two take that out to the truck an' I'll go pay for it."

* * *

><p>"I fucking hate Target."<p>

"Oh, Winchester, it wasn't tha' bad. Could've made you go to Walmart."

* * *

><p><em>21.12.2008<em>

"Remind me again why we had to wait?"

"To make sure all the little critters are out of the tree, Dean," I explain. "Man, the slow path takes forever! Usually we just buy one an' skip ahead that part. Or grow 'em in the TARDIS. When Mum an' Dad get here, I'll show you. Should be here any minute."

"Yeah, if yer dad finally figures out how to drive that thing," Bobby walks into the front room to look at the tree.

"He's gotten better, an' she's not a 'thing', she's a she," I defend the old time ship. Who, at that moment, decides to materialize in the middle of the room. I smack my palm on my forehead. "Dad! Take 'er outside!"

"What?" he peeks his head out. "Oops. Back in a jiff. Ooh, remind me to never say that again, will you, sweetheart?"

"Got it. Now, either park her outside, or find a cupboard big enough for her."

"Mind if I use your barn, Mr Singer?"

"You break it, you buy it," Bobby concedes, and the time ship vanishes.

"Do all of those ships make that sound?" Sam asks curiously.

"Dad leaves the brakes on. Supposed to be silent. M'gonna go get the Christmas lights from the ship. Back soon."

I run out the door and to the barn, smiling when I see my blue ship and home there. Walking in, I throw open her doors and stride into the ship.

"Hiya, Daddy. Mummy. Got the lights ready for me?" I beam, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"'Course we do, sweetie," Mum kisses the top of my head, then raises her voice to call to the boys. "Doctor, Rory! Come carry these totes inside!"

"Inside where, River?" Rory asks as he and Amy walk out of the main hallway into the console room.

"Bobby's house. You get to meet 'im!" I beam. "He's a bit hard around the edges, but you'll get used to 'im. Secretly, he's a big sweetheart. But you didn't hear it from me. Anyway! C'mon! Tree to decorate! Let's go!"

I lead them through he scrap yard and into Bobby's, making sure my family steps over the salt lines to placate the hunters.

"You don't mind throwin' back a shot of water, d'ya?" I smile, pouring holy water in four glasses. Mum immediately takes one and drinks, grimacing at the taste.

"Holy water, never could get used to that taste," she says.

"Holy water?" Rory asks sceptically.

"Tasteless to humans," I reassure. "An' not poison. Cross my hearts."

The Ponds share a look with my parents.

"Very superstitious around here," Dad shrugs it off, downing the non-alcoholic shot and nearly gagging. "That tastes worse than Slitheen slime!"

I laugh at the look on his face.

"_You_ drink it, then, if you think it's so funny!"

"I will!" I rise to the challenge. Spitting my bubblegum out in the sink, I take an empty shot glass, pour, and throw it back. "Tastes like horse piss, but I only 'ave to do it once. An' m'used to it. Seriously, for humans, it tastes like water. Just drink it." I push the shot glasses across the counter towards Amy and Rory. They look a little apprehensive, but end up drinking. I don't make them use the silver knife, though.

* * *

><p>After decorating the tree -putting on all the ornaments, lights, and an actual star held in a glass orb (guess whose it is) (mine, haha)- we head into the TARDIS to watch Christmas movies: complete with hot cocoa, candy canes, marshmallows (both big and small), and popcorn. And cozy blankets, of course.<p>

"Mum," I moan, dragging out my words. "M'tryin' t'watch the movie! Move!"

"Your accent is more pronounced when you're annoyed, didya know that?" Dean asks playfully, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow.

"My accent is gonna get shoved up your-"

"Lyra!"

"Dad! M'ninety-seven! I can speak how I please!"

"Not under _my_ roof, you can't!"

"All of you, hush up!" Amy orders sharply. "River, get out of the way; you're blockin' the screen!"

"Yeah, Mum, you make a better cornflake than a Cheerio, an' you're doin' it wrong. Give it here." I scoot off the couch away from Dean and Amy and take the remote from my mother's hand.

"Well, some of us just learned how to use this damn thing last week, _you_, on the other hand, grew up around this system," Mum defends herself, plopping down next to her husband. I must've caught them in their good years, the ones where they're River and bowtie an' married an' they both _know_ they're married to each other.

"We haven't replaced it, _Rose_," I retort.

"I didn't know how to use it back then, either, _Cara._"

"Knock it off and put on the damn movie," Bobby interrupts. He didn't want to come watch movies with us, but I literally dragged him in. With the promise that he could spike his hot chocolate, of course (and he isn't the only one that did, either; the Winchesters really like their alcohol).

"'Elf' or 'A Princess For Christmas' or 'A Royal Christmas' or-"

"No Hallmark movies," Rory interrupts.

"Come on! Hallmark Christmas movies are the best!"

"No, they're not; they're sappy and predictable."

"Hazel, put on that Christmas Carol remake that Disney did," Amy orders.

"Which one? Mickey Mouse, or animated with Jim Carrey?" I ask, looking for the disk.

"Jim Carrey. That one's awesome."

"I thought I said-" Dad starts to protest before Mum cuts him off.

"Leave it be, Doctor. S'not like they're gonna go and tell everyone what they've seen, are they? They're children. Let them have their fun."

"Fine," Dad concedes, and we watch the movie.

* * *

><p><em>22.12.2008<em>

"Hazel! Give me my phone back!" Dean demands, chasing me up the stairs.

"I am _talkin'_ on it, Winchester! You can wait five seconds!" I counter, locking myself in the bathroom.

"You can't hide in there forever, Hazel!"

"Not plannin' on it!" I snap right back at him, then soften my voice. "Believe me now? He's outta Hell, an' we're all at Bobby's."

_"Who did you say you were again?"_

"Hazel. M'kinda Dean's girlfriend. Well. We haven't really labeled it yet, but. Anyway. Come or not, we're eatin' at around four Christmas Day. You can come around three, if that works for you."

_"We'll be there."_

"Wonderful! Oh, and don't speak a word to the boys about this, please. I wanna surprise them."

_"Got it. My lips are sealed."_

"Perfect! See you then!" I hang up Dean's phone and delete the call history, then sneak over to the now-silent door. "Quit listenin' in!" I shout, throwing the door open.

Dean falls on his arse and hits his head on the wall.

"Son of a bitch!" he swears. I drop his mobile on his stomach.

"M'gonna go Christmas shoppin' with Mum an' Amy. We'll be back in a few hours." I kiss the top of his head and walk calmly down the stairs. "Mum! Amy! We goin' or what?"

"Calm down, of course we're goin', Lyra," Mum smiles.

"Fantastic!" I beam.

"Boys! Try not to kill each other while we're gone!" Amy adds, and we walk out of Bobby's to the TARDIS. As soon as her doors are shut, the two Pond women turn on me. "So, you and Dean, huh?"

"Well-"

"Oh, my god, you two are dating!" Mum smiles like an idiot and starts to programme the controls.

"We 'aven't really labeled it yet-"

"Have you two had sex yet?"

"Mum! No!"

"Make out shirtless?"

"Okay, maybe," I answer Amy. "A few times."

"D'ya know what you're gonna get 'im?" Mum wonders.

"A watch," I smile. "He's been complainin' that his isn't workin' properly. An' m'gonna get Sam an external hard drive or somethin' computer-y like tha'. I'd get 'im a new laptop, but he's pretty fond of the one he's got. So, we need to go to a mall or someplace like that."

"Got it. One mall, comin' up," Mum beams. "Mall of America? Biggest one in the States."

"Why not? We've all got our mobiles," Amy says.

"An' no Dad to tell us not to wander off," I joke. "Alright, meet back here in, say, three hours?"

"Sure," Mum and Amy concede, and we walk out of the TARDIS and split in different directions.

* * *

><p>Aimlessly wandering down the busy corridor, I duck into a Best Buy, where they say they sell electronics.<p>

"Hi, welcome to Best Buy," a cheery guy in a blue vest and a red Santa hat greets. "Anything I can help you with today?"

"M'lookin for an external hard drive for a friend of mine. If you could just point me in the right direction, that'd be wonderful."

"Yeah, sure, it's right down there," he points with a tan hand.

"Thank you," I smile kindly and walk off.

* * *

><p>"M'never goin' shoppin' without a man again!" I complain once we get back, throwing open Bobby's front door and collapsing on the couch. "D'ya know how many <em>pigs<em> are out there? My bum is sore from how many people 'ave pinched an' smacked me there! Mum nearly got arrested for shopliftin'-"

"I _paid_ for that!" she protests.

"An' Amy then proceeded to get in a fight with the cashier an' arresting officer."

"They were actin' like idiots!"

"Yeah, an' I think all of _Scotland_ heard you when you were insultin' 'em! Nonetheless, we're not allowed back at the Mall of America any time soon. Well, any time after 2014, that is."

"Did you get all your shopping done, at least?" Rory asks, wrapping an arm around Amy.

"Yeah, we got our shopping done. Well, at least _I_ did. Amy an' Mum were at Victoria's Secret when they got hauled out of there."

"Thank you, Hazel, for sharin' that little tidbit with the class," Amy groans.

"What? We buy bras there. So what?"

"You shop at Victoria's Secret?" Dean asks, plopping down next to me with an excited look on his face.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Not a fact you'll find out any time soon, Winchester," I wink before snuggling down in his chest. "All the presents are hidden in the TARDIS, waitin' t'be wrapped. No snoopin', Dad! She won't give 'em to ya!"

He mutters irritatedly in Gallifreyan, something about meddling time ships and daughters. But that's okay. I'm his daughter, it's my job to meddle.

* * *

><p><em>23.12.2008<em>

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve!" I smile, curling up closer to Dean in bed. "I hope it snows. 'I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas'," I sing like a dork, making him smile.

"Hey, you wanna get a tattoo?" he asks all of a sudden.

"Like the one you have?" I turn serious.

"Yeah. I mean, I know angel and demon mojo don't work on you, but I don't know if a demon can possess you, and I don't really wanna find out."

"Aww, are you worried 'bout me?"

"You're my girl, of course I'm worried 'bout you," he says so sweetly. I think I just felt my hearts melt.

_Oh, he has _no_ idea of the hold he has on me._

"Oh, so I'm your girl now?" I smile cheekily.

"Well, yeah, if-"

"I'd love to," I reassure him, halting his nervous stammerings with a kiss. "But, that means, you 'ave to be my boyfriend."

"Done," he says before diving in on my mouth again.

* * *

><p>"Hey!" Sam bangs on our bedroom door four times. "You two done playing tonsil hockey long enough to come eat breakfast? It's noon!"<p>

"I can make out with my girlfriend when I want, Sammy!" Dean snaps right back at his brother.

"Hazel! Come take care of your damn dog!" I hear Bobby call from downstairs.

"We should probably go down there," I admit, giving him one more kiss before leaving his embrace and the warm bed. He makes a sound of annoyance.

"No, come back, I'm cold now," he protests.

"Get up an' be a man about it, Winchester. Else I'll eat all the food without you," I taunt with a tongue-in-teeth smile, and dart downstairs, passing Sam on my way.

"Don't you dare!" Dean fires back, following me.

"Haven't you heard of trousers, Dean?" is my response, skidding to a stop into the kitchen.

"Afternoon, Hazel," Amy smiles, handing me a plate of eggs and potatoes. "Shoppin' for Christmas Day supper later?"

"Definitely. An' Dean's goin', too."

"No, Dean is _not_," the man in question protests, stealing off my plate.

"Get your own, put some bloody trousers on, an' yes, you _are_. I need my strong man who knows how to drive to go with me. An' then you can take me to get tattooed."

"Whoa, 'tattoo'? You're gonna go get a tattoo?" Amy asks incredulously.

"Don't tell Mum an' Dad. M'old enough to get a tattoo," I argue without bite or tone.

"Take your psychic paper with you. Why don't you and Dean go by yourselves, yeah? You know all we need."

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Sure. Go have fun."

"Not too much fun, though!" Rory orders, walking into the kitchen to look for food.

"_No_ promises," I beam.

* * *

><p>Dean pushes the cart (unhappily) while I pile things in. To name a few, a turkey (twenty-five freaking pounds), bread to make stuffing, apples, celery, canned cranberry sauce, sparkling apple cider (apple, apple-grape, and apple-cranberry), red and white wine, cooking sherry, onions, potatoes, yams, marshmallows, brown sugar, green beans, and french fried onions. That's not all I grab, though.<p>

"We're almost done. I need some whipped cream and cinnamon. Pecan pie or pumpkin?" I ask.

"Can we have both?" he asks hopefully.

"I spoil you," I groan. "Fine. I'm not making those from scratch, though. M'already makin' a moonberry one. Let me grab some premade ones. Watch the trolley."

"It's called a _cart_, Hazelnut!" he calls after me, making me chuckle as I walk.

* * *

><p>The food sits in the back seat (too much to fit in the boot; I may have gone a bit overboard), and Dean leads me into the tattoo shop.<p>

"You know where you want it?" Dean asks, rubbing a hand up and down my arm, holding me close.

"Yeah. An' I know it won't hurt, s'just the needles."

"Big badass alien chick such as yourself hates needles?" It comes out more as an incredulous statement than a question.

"Very long story, Dean."

"How can I help you two today?" a woman covered in tattoos and piercings walks up to us.

"Can you do this one for me, please?" I ask, showing her a picture of Dean's anti-possession tattoo on my mobile phone. She takes the phone to look at the image closer.

"Sure. Let me draw this out real quick. You know where you want it?" she asks, walking to a station with a needle-gun thing and a drawing pad with markers.

"I think so," I tell her. It's just us three in the store, far as I can tell. No, wait... one in the back. I think.

* * *

><p>Getting a tattoo is not as painless as I thought it would be. It hurts. I can redirect the pain, of course, and focus on other things (mainly a certain Winchester).<p>

"All right, you're golden, darling," the tattooist, Riley, smiles at me and carefully applies a bandage on my right breast. I got my tattoo above my right heart, my weaker one. "Rub this in carefully tomorrow morning after taking the bandage off," she hands me a bottle of cream, "but not a second before. I'm talking a good twelve hours, here. Also, I'd stick with button-up shirts for now. Look nice on Christmas, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"You two lovebirds have a merry Christmas."

"You, too," I smile at her as Dean pays.

_"Think of it as part one of your Christmas present," he had said when I protested._

_"Part one?"_

_"Part one," he confirmed._

_"What's part two?"_

_"You'll see on Christmas Day."_

_"Have I ever told you I hate waiting?"_

_"Yes, Hazelnut, yes you have."_

* * *

><p>"We're ho-ome!" I call cheerfully, carrying bags of food into Bobby's postage-stamp kitchen. "Boys! Be strong men an' help carry food in, or you won't eat come Christmas Day!"<p>

That got them moving. I should've learned this by now: promise of food gets all men moving. Okay, maybe not _all_, but _most_ of the men in my life.

After Dean, Sam, and Rory haul all the bags in (Bobby and my dad had mysteriously vanished), Amy, Mum, and I put everything away in the appropriate places and inform everyone that they are not to go rummaging through the cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer and eating whatever the hell they want. Then, I curl up next to Dean, my head in his lap and his hands in my hair, singing along to Christmas music thanks to Pandora Radio and my powerful but small green Bluetooth speaker.

"'Baby, all I want for Christmas is you!'" I sing softly with Mariah Carey.

"Lyra, sweetheart, why do you have that gauze on your chest?" my dad appears and asks curiously.

"Oh. That. I got a tattoo. No big deal. Hurt, though. Did you know that humans use _needles_ to make tattoos?"

"You got a _what_?" Shit. Oncoming Storm voice.

"Mum! Dad's gonna kill me!" I shout, trying to get her to save me.

"Doctor! Don't kill Lyra, m'not done with her yet!" I hear from upstairs. _So_ helpful, Mum.

"Daddy, if it makes you feel any better, s'a small little thing. An' it's so demons don't possess me. 'Member, I was tellin' you about those things? An' how the Winchesters hunt them?" I sit up to look at him and not the ceiling.

"You got a tattoo without my permission!"

I roll my eyes. "I'm ninety-seven years old! That's like... twenty-one in human years!"

"No, it's more like _seventeen_, and- River! Your daughter got a tattoo!"

"Really?" she comes thundering down the stairs. "Let me see!"

"Not yet, the lady said to wait till tomorrow mornin'."

"What d'ya get?"

"River!" Dad protests.

"Oh, re-_lax_, Doctor. It's a _tattoo_; s'not like she used the Chameleon Arch, ran away, regenerated by herself, or got married," Mum rationalizes.

"Oh, well, when you put it _that_ way," Dad says sarcastically.

"I can name a few things _you_ did when _you_ were ninety-seven."

"See?" I smile. "Not mad. Everythin's fine." And then I plop my head down on Dean's lap. "Straight No Chaser! Everybody shut up!"

_Love_ their rendition of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas'. Just saying.

* * *

><p>A Princess for Christmas<strong> and<strong> A Royal Christmas** are actual Hallmark Christmas movies that are sappy and angsty and amazing and I love them tbh so you should watch them.**

**TBC**

**Please review!**


	12. Christmas pt 2

**I don't know when to quit! haha this chapter is like 6,650 or something like that. Also, before I forget, I am purposefully being vague in descriptions because I want it to be up to your imagination hehe. Don't hate me.**

**Little drama near the end. You're welcome.**

giddyfan**'s lovely song she wrote for this part is at the end of this long ass chapter!**

**Don't forget to review please! I got TWO reviews last chapter, and that made me so happy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twelve: Christmas part two<span>

_24.12.2008_

"Christmas Eve!" I smile, rolling on my other side to kiss my sleeping boyfriend. Hot damn, I love calling him that! "Mornin', boyfriend."

"Mornin', girlfriend," he kisses me back, then sits us both up before we can get too carried away. "Let me see that tat." Dean carefully peels the bandage off to reveal the black anti-possession symbol perfectly contrasted (with angry red around the edges) against my pale white skin. "Looks good, babe."

"Really?" I ask, looking down at my nearly nude torso. I'm wearing a brassiere, of course, but no shirt. Dean alleviated that 'problem' for me last night.

"Yeah. Where'd you put that cream that pink-haired chick give you?"

"Oh, I think it's in my camo purse-bag-thing downstairs."

"Be right back," he says, climbing off the bed.

"But- I can get-" my protests fall on deaf ears.

He's _seriously_ sweet. Secretly a teddy bear, I swear to the Goddess. He comes back upstairs within ninety seconds, and insists on rubbing the cream on my tat. But, knowing Dean Winchester, I think he's just trying to cop a feel. Either way, I don't particularly mind.

* * *

><p>I'm making sugar cookies with Amy a few hours later, when my smoking hot boyfriend covered in black engine grease thinks he's being sneaky and steals some of the uncooked dough. "Dean Winchester, get your filthy, greedy, dirty, engine-grease-covered fingers <em>out<em> of my sugar cookie dough!"

"But it's delicious!" he protests, swiping more.

"Get out! Get out get out get _out_!"

"Get _out_ of here, Dean!" Amy yells at him, too.

"Mean women!" Dean snaps indignantly, but leaves the kitchen.

"Bottomless pit, much?" she laughs.

"You've _no_ idea!" I chuckle.

* * *

><p>"Everybody go to bed!" I order, literally pushing on Dean's back to get him up the stairs. "Go to bed, or Santa won't come!"<p>

"Hazel-"

"Santa Claus is _too_ real, Dean Winchester; he uses a vortex-manipulator-sleigh-thingy to deliver presents. Now hush up and go to bed!"

"But-"

"Come _on_!" I push him into our room and slam the door. Then I plug my mobile in and switch on some Christmas music. "Tomorrow's Christmas Day!" I smile before kissing him. He pulls me down on the bed and we make out for about an hour before succumbing to blissful (for me) sleep.

* * *

><p><em>25.12.2008<em>

Dean darts straight up, breathing heavily, and swearing under his breath.

"Dean," I call softly, trying to break the metaphorical spell he's under. "Dean?"

He looks at me with wild emotion in his eyes, trying to place who I am, and I sit up and put an arm on his shoulder, trying to anchor him. Sure, he's woken up from nightmares before, but either they weren't this bad, or he's hidden them from me (probably a combination of both). And I'm more of a light sleeper tonight because it's Christmas Eve- well, Day, now; but just barely.

"Dean, calm down. S'just me. S'just Hazel," I coo softly. "Come lay down with me. S'okay." I pull down on his shoulder and he lays back down. "D'ya wanna talk about it?"

"No," he says.

"Okay. Hey, Dean?"

"What?"

"Will you hold me?" I ask softly, knowing he'll never ask for it himself. He takes me into his arms without a word, my head using his bare chest as a pillow, and I hold onto him as tight as he's holding onto me. I end up falling back asleep, and he does soon after.

* * *

><p>"It's Christmas!" I beam happily, waking up the man beside me. "Happy Christmas, Dean Winchester, now wake up!"<p>

"Five more minutes, Hazelnut," he groans sleepily, turning away from me.

"But I got you the most amazing present ever," I pout. "_And_ I'm gonna make cinnamon rolls. With cream cheese frosting. Well, if Mum hasn't made them already. S'tradition. There'll also be bacon and omelettes. And most likely coffee."

I swear, the only way to get this man up is with the promise of food. Leading him downstairs with me, I stop only to pound on Uncle Bobby and Sam's respective doors to wake them up. "Wake up, it's Christmas Day!"

"Mornin', sweetie, Happy Christmas," Mum kisses my cheek. "Mornin', Dean. She drag you kickin' n'screamin'?"

"You have no idea," he mutters drowsily. "Got any coffee, River?"

"On the pot," Amy calls from the table, also in her pajamas. "Mornin', children."

"Amy, we're both older than you," I point out.

"Yes, but I'm your grandmum, Hazel, so hush and eat. Then we can do presents."

"Still weird, by the way," Rory says, taking a bite of his own bacon. "I'm thirty years old, and married with a daughter and granddaughter, who are both older than me."

"Time travel," I tsk. "Very wibbly."

Christmas is my favourite holiday _ever_, so it's no surprise to my mother and father when I nearly inhale my breakfast.

"Hazelnut, breathing your breakfast in like air instead of eating it like a normal person means you won't taste anything," Dean points out cheekily. I may or may not smack him on his arm for that remark. Hard. "Ow!" he howls.

"Normal is just a settin' on a machine, Winchester," is my just-as-cheeky response. "Sammy! Bobby! Quit movin' like snailish turtles and hurry up!"

"We are _right here_, damn idjit," Bobby makes his presence known and goes straight for the coffee.

"Well. You don't have to name-call," I say indignantly, making Dean and the Ponds snicker. "Presents? _Please?_"

"Go unleash your puppy-dog eyes on your mother," Dad orders. "You get your love of the holiday from her."

"No, don't puppy-dog eye me!" Mum protests, clenching her eyes shut to block out the amazingness that is my puppy-dog eyes.

"But _Mum_," I draw out her name.

After two minutes of her eyes sealed and me just standing there (and she knows it, too), she gives in with a defeated and faux-irritated, "Fine!"

"Woohoo, let's go!" I cheer, taking care of my dishes and heading to the tree. I grab the stack of presents that I bought and start handing them out. "These are from me," I smile.

Mum and Dad pass out their presents, then Amy, Rory, the Winchesters, and Bobby.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on. I got somethin' for Cassie, too."

"Haze, he probably won't-"

"Trust me, Dean. He'll come for me. Watch." I close my eyes and fold my hands, knowing it's completely unnecessary but doing it anyway. It'll annoy my feathered friend. "Cassie!" I shout, startling half the people in the room. "It's Christmas! Get your feathered bum down here; I got you somethin'!"

"But today is not Jesus's-" Cassie says before I interrupt him by shoving the present at him.

"Happy Christmas, now shut up an' open it," I order the angel.

"Hazel?" Amy asks curiously, eyeing my angelic friend.

"Amy an' Rory, meet Castiel. He's an angel. Like, with wings an' everythin'," I tell them. "But not a Weeping Angel. A regular one. Christian one. Weeping Angels are bad. Cassie, d'ya like it?"

He carefully peels the red and green striped paper off without tearing or damaging it to reveal a dark green tie.

"Matches your eyes better, an', much as I love that shade of blue, s'gettin' old, Cassie."

"I do like it," he says. I take the wrapping paper he hands to me, crumple it in a ball, and hit Rory with it in his shoulder. "Thank you, Cara."

"You're welcome, Cassie," I smile warmly. "Well, don't just stand there like a stick in the mud, c'mere; let me help you put it on." I rise from my crossed legs on the floor and walk over to my friend, take the tie from his hand, and swap his blue one for my green one.

"Nice tie, Cas," Sam says. "Looks good."

"Thank you," Cas tells Sam, then turns back to me. "I must go now."

"Before you do, can you give this to Gabe? Bein' an angel, you'll probably see 'im before I do," I rationalize, handing Cas a candy bar wrapped in Santa paper. _To: Gabe love: Care-Bear ooo_ is written in black Sharpie.

"I will," he says, tucking the chocolate into a jacket pocket.

"Will you stop by later?" I ask with puppy-dog eyes.

"I will see what I can do."

"Okay. Bye, Cassie."

"Goodbye, Cara." And then the angel is gone with the faint sound of rustled bird's wings.

"'Cara'? He calls you _Cara_?" Amy questions incredulously. "And you _let_ him?"

"Keep tellin' 'im to call me 'Hazel', but he don't listen. Anyway, who's next?"

"I'm thinking of a number between one and-"

"Twenty-six thousand, four hundred and fifty-three point two nine eight six one (26,453.29861)," Mum and I say at the same time, interrupting my dad.

"_That_ is _cheating_, ladies!" he accuses, making us laugh.

"You never said we couldn't cheat!" Mum protests. "You just said you were thinkin' of a number!"

While they're arguing on how psychic linking is considered cheating, I decide to give the dog his present, which is a rawhide bone covered in dry bacon grease.

* * *

><p>It takes about five minutes for them to settle their little domestic, ended quite rudely by me hitting my father in the face with a ball of wrapping paper.<p>

"If you two are quite done!" I snap. "I vote Sam open a present."

"Go for it, Sammy!" Dean claps his brother on the back.

Sam picks the one I gave him, and tears off the paper.

"An external hard drive?" he smiles excitedly.

"You're always complainin' how Dean keeps takin' your laptop an' doin' things to it. With tha', you can back up all your files an' clean up your computer. I may have also put some things on there, and quintupled the storage capacity. You have ten terabytes. Well, nine and a half. Happy Christmas."

"Holy shit, thanks, Hazel!"

Amy opens next by order of Sam-ster, and receives a pair of pearl earrings from Rory. Bobby opens a bottle of booze from Dean and Sam.

Jack sent me a container of Nutella with a note, saying: _Have fun eating yourself! Lots of love to my favourite double-hearted niece, Uncle Jack xoxo_

"I don't get it," Dean frowns.

"Once upon a time, I had chocolate brown hair. Nutella is made with chocolate and hazelnuts. I call myself Hazel. Want a bite?"

"Hahahahaha, that's frickin' _hilarious_!" Dean laughs heartily.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," I roll my eyes. "You don't get a bite now. But open this one," I take my present to him from his little stack and hand it to him. He rips the bow off and destroys the paper to reveal a Suunto Advizor watch with the time already set, a compass, and altimeter.

"Wow," he says, beaming like a kid at a candy store. "Damn, Hazel, this is-"

"Flip it over," I smile, scooting closer to him.

"You got it _engraved_? What do these symbols mean?"

"This one," I point to the larger one in the middle, "is your name in Gallifreyan. This one," the one directly above it, "means 'hunter'. This one means 'strong'. This one means 'protector' or 'warrior'. This one means 'kind', and this last one means 'brave'." The symbols surrounding his name go clockwise on the back plate. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? Hell, I _love_ it! Thank you." And to show his appreciation, he snogs me senseless right in front of my parents.

"Am I seeing what I _think_ I'm seeing?" Dad asks Mum cautiously.

"Oh, stop it, Doctor, they're absolutely adorable."

"I think we're in trouble," I laugh against his lips.

"And it's all your fault, too," Dean accuses playfully, pulling me against his chest.

"An' how is it _my_ fault? _You're_ the one who instigated!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Here, open your last one," he prompts. I look around to make sure no one has any presents left first (they don't), and concede to his wishes.

_To: Hazelnut_

I know immediately it's from him. I take the little gold bow off and tear the green paper.

"A black box!"

"Try _opening_ the box instead of gawking at it."

"Tsk, you're so mean to me." I say it with a smile, though, and he knows I'm joking. I do open the little black box, though. "Oh," I gasp softly. "Wow, it's..."

"Do you like it?"

It's a pure silver locket with a flower engraved on the front side. I open it to find nothing, but that's okay. I can put my own pictures in.

"Dean, it's beautiful. Here, put it on for me." I lean forward and he fastens the chain around my neck. "I love it. Thank you." I give him a quick peck on the lips, knowledgeable that my parents are sitting _right over there_.

"He bought that without using one of the fake credit cards, too, Haze," Sam speaks up.

"Shut _up_, Sam!" Dean throws a ball of wrapping paper at his younger brother.

"No, no, no, Sam, don't retaliate, m'in the middle!"

* * *

><p>Yeah, my two boys ended up having a wrapping paper snowball fight. I made them clean it all up, though. My called, too. Apparently his brother shifted the furniture <em>just<em> so in his office, irritating the daylights out of him. My loved the smartphone I sent him, though, and his brother loved the violin. Jack rang, also. He said 'Happy Christmas!' and wondered if I got the Nutella he sent. I may or may not have threatened to put a bullet between his eyes when I next saw him, but we both know that I was joking.

Also, I think Dad put the fear of the Time Lord Victorious into Dean Winchester. Seeing them out the kitchen window in the light snow (and the look on Dean's face), I get my mother's attention and point out the window.

"You might wanna go save your boyfriend, sweetie," Mum tells me. I do just that, absentmindedly taking my huge kitchen knife I was using to chop onion with me.

"Daddy, don't scar my poor human for life, m'not done with him!" I protest, breaking up their little conversation. "No throwin' 'im into any star of any kind, losing 'im in the TARDIS, locking 'im in any room of the TARDIS, feedin' 'im to wild animals, ditchin' 'im on an abandoned spaceship or space station or planet (abandoned or not), an' no leavin' 'im to the mercies of aliens (malicious or not) or the Shadow Proclamation. An', so help me, if you even _think_ about takin' 'im in the past an' leavin' 'im there, I will use _this_ to chop up your sonic screwdriver. _In half_," I threaten. Dad's face pales.

"I think I have something in the-in the- inside," he stutters, and scrambles back inside.

"What did he tell you?" I ask Dean.

"Oh, the usual, with that slowly becoming familiar alieny twist. 'You break her hearts, I'll make you wish you were dead' and stuff like that."

"M'gonna kill 'im."

"Nah, it's good that people care about you like that."

* * *

><p>Cooper lays in the middle of the living room floor, waiting to be called into the kitchen as a taste tester. Mum and Amy and me are in the kitchen, making deliciousness in the form of turkey, stuffing, yams, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and a number of treats.<p>

"It's _sticking_!" I scream happily, leaving the cutting board in favour for the huge white flakes sprinkling down slowly from the heavens. I'm not called back into the kitchen, but rather joined by the Winchester boys. An inevitable snowball fight occurs, and we build a snowman.

"I don't think I've ever done this before," Dean admits.

"Well, you two did a wonderful job," I beam, letting my boyfriend wrap an arm around me. "Happy Christmas, Winchester."

"_Merry_ Christmas, Hazelnut," he leans down to kiss me.

"Happy, merry, same thing," I lean up and let our lips touch in the falling snow. We're interrupted by a car pulling up in the driveway.

"Who's here?" Dean wonders, a hand moving to his concealed pistol.

"Oi, none of that," I protest. "'Member when I borrowed your mobile without permission?"

"I remember you _stole_ my _phone_," he corrects. "What did you do?"

"Part two," I wink at him, and the two ladies step out of the car. "Hello!" I call in greeting. "Happy Christmas!"

"_Merry_ Christmas, Hazel."

"Oh, my god, does it really matter?" I laugh, gently pushing him towards the two women. "Go an' say 'hello'."

The older woman splashes his face with what I assume is holy water. Then, when he assures her he's not a demon, she hugs Dean, saying, "Real glad to see you, boy." But then, she steps back and slaps him, so hard his head snaps to the other side. "The can of whup ass I ought to open on you!"

"Ow!" Dean complains, rubbing his jaw.

"You can't pick up a phone? What, are you allergic to giving me peace of mind? I gotta find out that you're alive from some British chick I've never heard of 'till she calls me up from your phone, inviting me and Jo to Christmas dinner?" she accuses. The blonde one stands near the car, a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Sorry, Ellen," Dean apologises.

"Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, my god, that was _awesome_!" I beam, stepping towards the three. "You an' I, m'sure we'll get along _just_ fine."

"This is my girlfriend, Hazel," Dean introduces me to the two women, wrapping an arm around me. "Haze, this is Ellen and Jo Harvelle."

"S'wonderful to meet you," I offer my hand, which Ellen shakes. "I think Sam went inside to try to steal a taste of the fudge Mum an' Amy are makin'. I might wanna go rescue 'im. You're welcome to come in though!"

"Get _out_!" I hear my mother and Amy shout.

"An' tha's my cue," I smile before darting into the house to diffuse any ill situation. "Samuel Winchester, get out of the kitchen!"

* * *

><p>"River Song, Amy an' Rory Williams, an' the Doctor," I point out my family to the Harvelles. "Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Oi, British an' Scottish people! Don't scare them off, yeah? Let's all make nice!"<p>

"Oh, so you're _doubting_ me, now, sweetie?" Mum jokes, coming up behind me.

"Never said such thing, Mother. I _know_ you. S'a difference. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe the turkey is near done an' we can eat in about a half-hour."

* * *

><p>"No case talk at the table," I warn when I set the turkey down in the middle of the extended table.<p>

"Damn, Hazelnut, that looks good," Dean looks appreciatively at the turkey, mouth nearly watering.

"Close your mouth, sweetheart, you'll catch flies," I quip, making Sam laugh. Jo cracks a smile, but I don't think she likes me very much. Oh well. "Dog! Go lay down in the other room!" Cooper does what I say, albeit with a sad look in his eyes. "Oh, don't you give me that, Cooper, you got to lick the pan it was cookin' in!"

"You spoil that dog, Hazel," Bobby says as he carries in a pan of green bean casserole. "He's all sad when you leave."

"Well, yeah, that's 'cause he loves me. One of the most innocent, yet most spontaneous an' trustin', the love a dog has," I say as I go in the kitchen again. "Red or white, Mum?"

"Red, please, sweetie!" I grab the bottle of red wine and a case of beer and bring them in on the table. "So, are you ladies hunters like the Winchesters?"

"Yeah," Jo answers my mother. "You a hunter, too?"

"No, not us," Mum says, pouring herself a glass. "Lyra, wine?"

"No, thanks, Mum."

"'Lyra'?" Jo questions.

"Well, yeah, s'part of my name."

"So, 'Hazel' isn't your name."

"Well, yeah," I shrug off. "My given name is a secret, but 'Hazel' is the name I chose for myself."

"Why?"

"It just is. Wine or beer?"

"Beer's fine," Jo says. I pop the cap off and hand her a bottle, and she mutters a "Thanks."

"No problem. Bobby, will you carve?"

"Sure," he says, picking up the knife and two-pronged fork next to the bird. "We gonna say grace or are we gonna shoot it to hell this year?"

"Shoot it to hell," is Dean's instant reply. I roll my eyes fondly at the predictability.

"Dad, before I forget, there's sparkling apple cider in the fridge if you don't want any alcohol," I mention.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he smiles before letting Mum pour him a glass of wine. Hmm. Special occasions and such? Maybe.

I just hope there isn't any drama.

* * *

><p>Dinner was fine, filled with laughter and war stories and alcohol. Nothing heavier than beer and wine, but it flowed. These human hunters can <em>really<em> hold their liquor. After supper when everyone is sufficiently full, we retire to the living room to watch Christmas movies (at Amy's request). 'To save space' Dean pulls me on his lap.

Right in the middle of 'Elf', my mobile goes off. Glancing at the caller ID, I get off my boyfriend's lap and head to the kitchen.

"Happy Christmas, Ianto," I smile.

_"Hazel, is Jack with you?"_

"No, why? Ianto, what's wrong?" And, _bam!_ my smile fades.

_"He just... _vanished_ into thin air. Like you do with your vortex manipulator."_

"Did he get his fixed?"

_"No, not that I know of. He tried but gave up on it."_

"Ianto, I'm sure it's nothin'-"

_"But it's _not_, Hazel! There's just something about him, lately, like he's not himself."_

"Like what?"

He sighs into the phone before answering. _"Maybe I was overtired or something, but I could've sworn his eyes were complete black for a second last night."_

Well, shit.

"Have Tosh try to search his location using the Torchwood database, an' if that doesn't work, hack into UNIT. I'll use the TARDIS, an' call if I find him." I hang up the phone and head back in the living room.

"Everything okay?" Dean asks.

"No," I answer. "I'll be right back, just somethin' I gotta check." I head outside into the snow and to the little barn the TARDIS is parked in. The key on the chain stays around my neck as I unlock the TARDIS, pull her door open, and shut it behind me as I drop the key back down my (borrowed from Dean without permission) button-down plaid shirt and black tank top. "Hello, sweetheart," I croon, caressing her console controls lovingly. "Jack's gone missin', can you find 'im for me?"

When the TARDIS speaks, it's telepathically. You can't hear her with your ears. And she doesn't speak in words, more like feelings. And yes, I'm aware of how crazy that sounds. But that's just how she is.

Clear as a bell on her screens in Gallifreyan, _Not Found_.

"What? What d'ya mean, 'not found'? How can he be not found? He's still on-planet!"

The old girl makes an indignant noise, almost as if she's saying, _"Don't you get snippy with me, Little Cub."_ in that motherly tone that she possesses and uses on anyone she loves or cares about.

I stand there, annoyed at my home and annoyed that the universe has to complicate everything.

"You're not helping me... because this is somethin' I have to do on my own?" I connect slowly. She makes a noise of affirmation. "Will it hurt?"

No reply. I take that to mean yes. I kiss her screen lovingly and step out of the TARDIS, locking her doors behind me.

"Hiya, niecey," an overly familiar American accent startles me once I'm out of the barn. I turn round with a hand on my hearts.

"Jack, you scared me," I laugh breathlessly. "What are you doin' here? Ianto called, he's worried."

"Just came to say 'hello', 'how are things'. But, in all honesty, I'm going to break into your mind." The smile that crosses his face is an evil one, terrifying, and that is a smile my 'uncle' is incapable of wearing. Especially with the pitch-black eyes to boot.

"Demon powers don't work on me," I warn, backing away from the demon and towards Bobby's.

"I know. This meatsuit is one of the few humans that can, oh, what do you call it... _Psychic link_?"

I tear away from him and towards the house, but, of course, he follows.

"Dean!" I scream his name as loudly and harshly as I can. The demon grabs me and covers my mouth, holding me to Jack's body.

"None of that," he laughs perversely. "Oh, look at who decided to join the party!" His eyes flash black for effect.

"Let her go," Dean orders. "Now!"

"I don't think so. One more move, Sammy-boy, and I turn her mind to mush!"

My eyes widen as he spreads his free hand and places his thumb and middle finger on my temples. A crude way to psychic link, but effective.

"My bosses will be _so_ pleased when I bring the alien mutt back to Hell with me."

"Only thing going back to Hell is you," Ellen says.

"You're not gonna shoot me," the demon laughs with Jack's voice. "This meatsuit _matters_ to Bowtie and Hair over there. Now, why don't you guys hang out with the wall?" He moves the hand from my mouth and pushes the humans back with his mind, forcing them against the outer wall of Bobby's house._  
><em>

"Hazel, get away from him!" Bobby orders.

"What the hell is going on?" Amy and Rory demand.

I stay completely silent. No use in provoking the damn thing.

"See, psychic linking can be beneficial. But forcing your way in? Tsk," the demon clicks its tongue. "I could kill her. Torture her, at the very least. Of course, you'd know all about that huh, Dean Winchester? In Hell."

"You couldn't kill her," Dad says before Dean can, Oncoming Storm in his tone. "Can you even get in her mind?"

"You left a flaw when you built up her mental walls from her last attack, Doctor. What if I were, to, oh, I don't know, exploit that flaw?" He smiles evilly and intensifies the connection. I scream, dropping to my knees and clutching my head.

"Hazel!" Dean calls my name. My only response is another heartsbreaking scream of terror and pain.

I used to think that my mind was my own. I have since then realized that there are cruelties in this universe that dispute that childish dream.

I never thought- no, that's wrong. I _hoped_ this would not happen again.

When something pushes into and tries to get through your mental defenses, it isn't pleasant. It _hurts_. The tattoo process, which had bugged me at the time, was but a feather touching skin compared to this. I have only felt pain like this once before.

_Go away! Get out of my head!_

* * *

><p>It seems like eons later when the pain starts to fade.<p>

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mum calls, not risking going near me. I don't blame her. "Back with us?"

In this regeneration, my mother may seem callous, but she isn't. She loves me very much. River Song is just very different than Rose Tyler.

"Dean, stop!" Bobby orders, his voice strained from effort. "You don't know _what_ she's locked in. She could kill you with a blink of her eye and think nothing of it."

"Bobby is right, Dean." Cassie? "You need to stop."

"_What_ is she?" Jo counters.

"I'd like to know that, too," Ellen agrees. "And if you two are her parents, what does that make you?"

"Enough," Cas snaps.

"Lyra Marie," I hear the Bad Wolf in my mother's voice, next to my ear. Ten bucks says her eyes are glowing, too. "Wake up."

And then, by magic (I know magic is a figment of imagination, but bear with me), I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

"You here an' now?" she asks.

"I think so," I answer, pleasantly surprised when my voice doesn't waver. She offers her arms to me and I let her help me up.

"Did he get in?" Dad asks softly, but still needing to know.

"No. Dad, that thing wasn't Jack. You can't punish him for it when he wakes up."

"I won't," he reassures me.

"Cara, that man is dead. I smote him myself," Castiel says.

"You always say that I surprise you, Cassie," I smile weakly. "But thank you."

"You are welcome."

And then Dean's arms are around me, startling me at first, but I hug him back with equal intensity.

"It's okay," he says for only me to hear.

"I know," I say just as quiet. He releases me to look into my eyes. "I'm okay, Dean."

I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he holds me tight anyway.

* * *

><p>"I think you should come with us."<p>

"Dad, I don't wanna go with you. I wanna stay here, with the Winchesters."

"And I don't think that's wise, Lyra! That demon-thing could've seriously hurt you!"

"Dean never would have let that happen!"

"He almost did!"

"You listen to me," I turn my voice dark and deadly. "I am staying _here_! I am _not_ going with you, an' there is nothin' you can do to make me say otherwise! Those humans will not hurt me!"

"It's not the humans I'm worried about!"

"Oh, for Rassilon's sake, this isn't even about that demon! This is because you don't like Dean!"

"Of _course_ I don't like Dean! That man is a womanizer, and I am worried that he will hurt you, Lyra!"

"He would _never_ hurt me! He wanted me to get _this_ exact tattoo," I pull my shirt down, "because he didn't know if a demon could possess me or not! He 'asn't even _looked_ at another woman since he met me, an' even his brother agrees that he 'as _changed_! I am _ninety-seven_ years old-"

"Exactly! You are still a child!"

"Don't you interrupt me! I am _three _years from a century, an' tha's like three _months_ to a human! I am _not_ a child!"

"Sometimes, I love the fact that I have no idea what they're saying," Amy whispers to her husband.

"You and me both," Rory whispers back.

"An' the daemons from Daemos have either evolved or devolved, an' they came here an' they hurt humans! They kill for the fun of it!"

"What about him torturing in Hell, huh? Was that demon lying?"

"Dean Winchester went to Hell because some bastard killed Sammy, an' he died in his older brother's arms! So he made a deal with somethin' called a Crossroads Demon to bring 'im back. An' yes, he went to Hell for tha', an' he was _tortured_ down there, so _don't you dare_ presume to know that man! Time works differently down there!"

"But did he not torture people himself?" he stresses.

"Are you kiddin' me with this shit?"

"Watch your mouth!"

"I'm done talkin' t'you."

"Get back here, Lyra Marie!"

"I am stayin' _right 'ere_!" I shout back.

"I am your _father_! I can make you do whatever I _want_ you to do!"

"No! I am stayin' 'ere, an' tha's _final_!" I step away from the TARDIS and she shuts her own doors, taking off with my father, the Ponds, and my mother trapped. "Thank you," I whisper to her as she vanishes, and then I walk back to the house.

"You good?" Sammy asks.

"Uh-huh," I respond, taking a beer and downing a healthy swig. "Mum an' Dad helped me build my mental defenses back up. Nothin's gettin' in 'ere without my say-so," I tap my temple three times. "Has Jack woken up yet?"

"Hazel, you make it sound as if he's sleeping."

"Yeah, Hazelnut," Dean sneaks around and wraps his arm around me. "He just got the holy crap smote out of him. I don't think he's gonna wake up."

"I say he does. An' I'll prove it. Now hush." I dial Ianto on my mobile and switch it on speaker.

_"Hazel, have you found him?"_

"I have, Ianto Jones. He'll be okay. Just got his arse handed to 'im an' managed to get 'imself killed again."

_"How'd he manage this time?"_

"I think Mum shot 'im. Ah, well, you know how it is."

_"Head or heart?"_ his tone of voice holds no surprise.

"Heart. Through-an'-through, though, so, I don't know how that'll effect 'is wake-up time. I'll 'ave 'im call you when he does."

He lets out a sigh of relief. _"Thank you, Hazel."_

"You're very welcome, Ianto. Talk to you soon." I hang up and pocket the device. "See? Nothin' t'worry about."

And then Jo slams me against the wall with a knife to my throat.

"Oh, hello," I say horsely. "How are things?"

"Jo!" Dean warns.

Cooper growls, ready to pounce.

_Down, boy. S'okay._ He does what I telepathically say with a protesting whine.

"What the hell are you?" she hisses.

"If you'd let me go," she presses the knife closer to my throat, and I sound like I'm choking, "I can show you."

"Jo, let her go. Alright, she said she could prove it," Dean snaps.

"She's not gonna hurt anyone, Jo," Sam adds. About a minute later, she pushes herself off of me.

"What, salt, holy water, silver knife?" I ask rhetorically, moving for the salt shaker on the table. I lick my hand, pour some salt on it, and lick that off. "Dean, can I see your flask of holy water, please?"

"Hazel-"

"Dean," I say softly, pleadingly. Reaching into his jacket, he hands me his holy water flask and I drink from it, trying not to grimace at the taste. "Silver next, right?" Jo hands me the knife she held to my throat and I take it without a word, pressing it to my left arm and slicing it.

"Did you have to go so damn deep, Hazel?" my boyfriend says irritatedly, accepting the towel Sam passes to him and pressing it on my cut forearm.

"It'll heal," I tell him. "Did that prove it to you, Jo?"

"That don't explain why that demon called you an 'alien mutt'," Ellen frowns.

"This will," I say. I shrug off the towel and place my hand over the wound. I close my eyes as the familiar sting of healing myself crops up as the scrape and my hand faintly glow gold. "Mmm, forgotten how much that stings."

"What are you doing?" Jo demands.

"Healing myself," I say simply. "Stitches are a bitch!"

"Wh-what are you?" Ellen asks.

"Well, see, I'm what you call an alien. If it makes you feel better, I'm technically twenty-five percent human."

"Alien," Jo repeats.

"Yeah. But I'm a good one, promise. M'not here for total world domination or anythin'," I try to joke.

"What, you got these boys under a spell or something?" Ellen accuses.

"Yes, because everyone always has an ulterior motive," I say sarcastically. "I'm an alien, I'm not rude. Okay, I can be rude, but to bad people, though. But I'm not manipulative. Y'know what, I think I hear someone callin' me outside."

"Hazel-"

"Dean, it's fine. If they wanna be racist, then fine. I'll be outside." I head through the back door, closing it behind me. There's a little orange and black cat outside that trots up to me once it sees me sitting on the step. "You're a little purr monster, aren't you?" I coo softly. It crawls up onto my lap and sits there, looking into my blue eyes with the gold flecks increasingly noticeable with her bright green ones.

Angel wings flutter right next to me.

"Hi, Cassie," I say in a small voice, still petting the cat.

"Hello, Cara," he says just as soft. "Are you okay?"

"M'fine."

"Lying is a sin."

"Lucky for me that I don't have to deal with your 'Father' then. And m'not lyin'."

He has no response to that, so we sit in silence for about a minute until I speak again.

"Why can't humans... never mind."

"I may not be much help, Cara, but you know you can always talk to me."

"Why can't all humans be nice like Dean an' Sam an' Bobby an' the ones who travel with us? I mean, humans have issues with their skin colour, an' call _that_ racism. They don't know what true racism is. Racism is Daleks. Racism is Cybermen. Racism is two different aliens who share a planet goin' on all-out war against each other."

"I do not know exactly how humans interact yet, I will confess," Cas says slowly. "But I do know that they are all different. Some are 'nice', as you put it, but some can be judgemental. They attack what they do not understand. So, maybe you should help them to understand."

I give him a kiss on his stubbly cheek, startling him.

"Thank you, Cassie," I smile. "You_ did_ help me."

"What was that for?"

"It's because I love you, you big lump. Now, here, hold her for me. And pick out a name, please." I hand him the cat and walk inside, swinging by the refrigerator and grabbing two beers. "Brought you one," I smile at Dean, kissing his cheek.

"One of the many reasons why you're awesome," he smiles. "I thought you were hiding outside?"

"I was not _hiding_, Winchester. I was... talking."

"With who?"

"Cassie, mister nosey," I tease. "He helped me realize some things. Now, he's thinkin' up a name for a cat."

"No more strays!" Bobby orders. "I mean it, Hazel!"

"Cooper wasn't a stray!" I protest.

"He was in the pound!"

"An' scheduled to be put down the next day! You love that dog, Bobby Singer, don't even deny it."

"Hazelnut, cats are secretly from Hell," Dean says, very matter-of-fact.

"Oh, they are not. This one is a total sweetheart."

"So, Hazel, you're an animal person?" Ellen asks hesitantly.

"Yes," I answer kindly, glad she's reaching out to me. "What about you?"

"Can't say that I am," she admits.

"If you're an alien," Jo speaks up from next to her mother, "what alien are you?"

"M'called a Time Lord."

"That's a bit..."

"I know," I smile amusingly. "I didn't pick the name."

"How many Time Lords are there?"

"One, m'dad. Mum's half-human half-Time Lord, an' then there's me. My planet was destroyed," I add at her curious look.

"Sorry."

"I never knew it, so there's nothin' for me to miss," I say simply. "Humans, though, you're just so interesting."

"How so?" Ellen asks.

"You are, how do you put it, sweetheart?" I ask Dean rhetorically. "'Stubborn sons of bitches'? An' how do you creatures get around with one heart?"

"How do _you_ get around with two?" Dean retorts.

"Oi, s'not as if this one's a backup!" I laugh, placing a hand above my right heart.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Dean Baby by giddyfan  
><span>Based on Santa Baby<span>

Dean baby slip holy water under the tree  
>For me<br>Been an awful good girl  
>Dean baby so hurry down the chimney tonight<p>

Dean baby a 67 Impala too  
>Black<br>I'll wait up for you dear  
>Dean baby so hurry down the chimney tonight<p>

Think of all the fun I've missed  
>Think of all the times we haven't kissed<br>Next year I could be just as good  
>If you check off my Christmas list<p>

Dean baby I wanna get to you  
>And really that's not a lot<br>Been nice all year  
>Dean baby so hurry down the chimney tonight<p>

Dean honey there's one thing I really do need  
>The deed<br>To a salt mine  
>Dean honey so hurry down the chimney tonight<p>

Dean cutie and fill my stocking with iron  
>And guns<br>Aim for the X  
>Dean cutie and hurry down the chimney tonight<p>

Come and trim my Christmas tree  
>With some decorations made of silver<br>I really do believe in you  
>Let's see if you believe in me<p>

Dean baby forgot to mention one little thing  
>A kiss<br>I don't mean on the cheek  
>Dean baby so hurry down the chimney tonight<br>Hurry down the chimney tonight  
>Hurry tonight<p>

**Please review!**


	13. Authors pt 1

**This episode,** The Monster at the End of This Book**, is one of my favourites! I hope you like how I did it. I kinda like how I did it. Some parts I don't, but, some parts (okay most) I do.**

**Christmas baking has commenced! Today I made fudge, sugar cookies, frosting, and peppermint bark, all from scratch. I also took my cat to the vet (she's fine btw, just old (10 almost 11) and has a secondary skin infection), went to the store, dropped and picked up my brother and the idjit dog who likes running into the sliding glass door to a friend of my dad's to go work (don't worry, dad sat shotgun), and made dinner. _And_ wrote over half of this chapter. And successfully blew off school, because I'M STILL NOT CAUGHT UP YET. Screw you, online school.**

**There was something else I was gonna say but I forgot.**

**Oh, I own nothing except Hazel. And anything else you don't recognize. But my friend, Nessa, and I got in a discussion on which Winchester was better in a livelesson for Spanish. We typed in Spanish, so our teacher was cool with it lol. I prefer Dean, Ness prefers Sam, and Ky randomly jumped in and was all like 'wtf is wrong with you crazy bitches castiel is so effing better' Predictably, the teacher got annoyed at that point and removed the chat pod, because she typed in english. -_- yeah.**

**Anyway, please review!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Thirteen: Authors part one<span>

Cassie gave the cat a name: 'Ariel'. It means 'lion of God'. It stuck and Bobby even laid out a saucer of milk for her to drink, thereby letting her stay. Jack woke up the next morning; Dean owed me ten dollars.

"You bet on me?" Jack accused.

"Of course I did!" I laughed. "_You've_ bet on _me_ before!"

"Oh yeah? When?"

"Has that not happened yet?" Then I reminded him that he had a very worried Welshman waiting and he rang him up immediately. Cassie took him to Cardiff for me.

My boys managed to find a case (and several Starbucks), and that's why we're walking into a comic book store wearing our suits. Comic. Book. Store.

Someone. Kill. Me. Now.

"Uh, can I help you?" the man at the counter asks.

"Sure hope so," Dean drawls. "Agents DeYoung and Shaw, and our intern, Miss Burtnik." _I'm gonna kill him._ "Just need to ask you a few questions."

"Notice anything strange in the building, last couple of days?" Sam asks.

"Like what?" the man asks.

"Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights," Dean says.

"Uh, I don't think so, why?"

"What about noises?" Sam presses. "Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?"

"And the FBI is investigating a _rodent_ problem?"

"What about cold spots?" I ask. "Sudden drops in temperature?"

He smiles. "I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?"

"The what?"

"You're fans!"

"Fans of what?" Sam asks.

"What is 'LARPing'?" Dean questions.

"Like you don't know. Live Action Role Playing. And pretty hardcore, too," he points at our suits.

"Yeah, what the hell are you talkin' 'bout?" I demand.

"You're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books."

"What books?" I'm seriously contemplating shooting him.

"'Supernatural'. Two guys, use fake ID's with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names, uh, Steve and Dirk? Sal and Dane?"

"Sam and Dean?" Sam suggests.

"That's it!"

"You're saying this is a _book_?" Dean asks.

"Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground-cult following. Here," he stands and goes to a 'Bargain Bin'. "Ah, yeah, that's the first one, I think."

"'Supernatural' by Carver Edlund," Dean reads. "'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious Woman in White lures men to their deaths.'"

"Give me that," Sam snatches the book from Dean.

"Probably would've sold more if they had you in it," the store clerk tries to flirt with me. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't," I bite out.

"We're gonna need all the copies of 'Supernatural' you've got," Sam interrupts.

* * *

><p>"This is freakin' insane!" Dean says from his spot on the bed in the motel room, 'Route 666' in his hands. Stupid titles. "How's this guy know all this stuff?"<p>

"So, you're sayin' all this is real?" I ask. "You actually did this stuff?"

"Yeah. Why?" I hit him with the spine of the book I'm reading. "Ow!"

"You're an _idiot_!"

"Why?" he rubs the top of his head.

"You used a Taser while you were standin' in water!"

"Everything is in here- I mean _everything_. From the racist truck to-to me having sex. I'm full-frontal in here, dude," Dean tells his brother. "How come we haven't heard of them before?"

"They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation," Sam says from his spot on the computer.

"You both are idiots," I inform them. "_You're_," I point to Dean, "a sex addict! My god, in every single one of these, you hook up with someone! At least now I know where that's," I point to his crotch with the book, "been, but I don't think I wanted to. If I ever find this 'Cassie' bitch, I'm gonna kill her. Same with 'Lisa'. An' your dad's lucky he's dead, 'cause I might've killed 'im myself!"

"You're cute when you're jealous," Dean winks at me.

"Go away, I'm mad at you," I throw a book I'd finished at him.

"Started in oh-five," Sam continues. "Publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one, 'No Rest for the Wicked' ends with you going to Hell."

"I reiterate: freakin' insane. Check it out, there's actually _fans_. Not many, but still. Did you read this?"

"Yeah."

"Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot," Dean frowns. "Listen to this. 'Simpatico' says, 'The demon story line is trite, cliched, and overall craptastic.' Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it."

"Yeah, well, keep on reading," Sammy prompts. "It gets better."

"There are Sam girls and Dean girls and- what's a 'slash fan'?"

"As in... Sam-slash-Dean. Together."

"That's just wrong," I say, putting the finished book down and heading over to look at the computer with Dean.

"Like, _together_ together?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam frowns.

"They do know we're brothers, right?"

"Doesn't seem to matter."

"Oh, come on. That-that's just sick." He moves to slam the laptop shut but I take it from him. "Hazel, you a Sam girl or a Dean girl?"

"Dean girl," I answer without hesitation. "Moron."

"Just checking. Anyway, we got to find this Carver Edlund."

"Yeah, that might not be so easy," Sam says.

"Why not?" Dean asks.

"No tax records, no known address. Looks like 'Carver Edlund' is a pen name."

"Sam? What's an 'OC'?" I ask.

"Own character. You looking at that fanfiction stuff?"

"What the bloody hell is this shit?" I laugh in disbelief. "'Lemons', angst, Deanmon-"

"'Deanmon'? What's a Deanmon?" Dean interrupts.

"I think it's you as a demon," I say.

"What?" he says angrily.

"These authors make their... 'OC's and pair them with either you, Sam, or both; s'called 'shipping'. There's threesomes. There's 'AU's. There's... I don't even know anymore." I close the laptop and slide it to Sam. "I'm so done."

* * *

><p>"So you published the 'Supernatural' books?" Sam asks the woman.<p>

"Yep. Yeah, gosh, these books..." she trails off. Her hair is very interesting; short cut with a big blonde streak contrasting her black hair. I like it. "You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know, 'Doctor Sexy, M.D.'? Please."

"Right," Dean says.

"Well, we're hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series," Sam says.

"Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press, then m-maybe we could start publishing again."

"No, no, no, no, no. God, no," Dean interrupts rapidly. "I mean, why-why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh-"

"It's such a complete series, what with Dean going to Hell an' all," I save my stuttering boyfriend.

"Oh, my god! That was one of my favourite ones, because Dean was so... _strong_, and sad and brave."

"An' how he faced those Hellhounds," I agree with her. "Broke my hearts."

"And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in-in 'Heart', when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in 'Home', when Dean had to call John and ask him for help. Gosh," she takes a shaky breath. "If only real men were so open and in-in touch with their feelings."

"_Real_ men?" Dean asks sceptically.

"I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?"

"Well, right now, I'm crying on the inside."

"Oh, stop it," I lightly smack his chest with the back of my hand.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" she asks protectively.

"Lady, this whole thing is funny," Dean chuckles.

"How do I know you three are legit, hmm?"

"Oh, trust me. We, uh, we're legit."

"Well, I don't want any smartass article making fun of my boys," she says, sitting down at her desk.

_Your_ boys? I don't think so, Crazy.

"No! No, no, never," Sam denies instantly. "We-we are actually, um, big fans."

"Hmm. You've read the books?"

"Every single one," I lie.

"What's the year and model of the car?"

"1967 Chevy Impala," Dean says instantly.

"What's May second?"

"That's my-uh, that's _Sam's_ birthday," Sammy answers.

"January twenty-fourth is Dean's," Dean adds.

"Sam's score on the LSAT?" she fires off.

"One... seventy-four?" Sam guesses.

"Dean's favourite song?"

"It's a tie. Between Zep's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues'," the man in question answers._  
><em>

"Okay," she chuckles. "Okay. What do you wanna know?"

"What's Carver Edlund's real name?" Sam asks.

"Oh no. No. Sorry. I can't."

"We just want to talk to him," I smile innocently at her. "Y'know, get the 'Supernatural' story in his own words."

"He's very private. Like Salinger."

"Please. Like I said, we are, um," Sam trails off, unbuttoning his flannel shirt, "big, big, big fans." He and Dean pull down their shirts to show off their tattoos. She looks expectantly at me.

"Oh, for god's sake," I mutter under my breath before pulling down my shirt.

"Awesome," she chuckles, getting out of her desk chair. "You know what?" She pulls her trousers down and bends over, showing her tattooed arse. "I got one, too."

"Wow. You _are_ a fan."

"Your girlfriend is standin' right here," I cross my arms.

"I'm not lookin'!" he denies.

"D'ya know what they said about the boyfriend who lied to his girlfriend?"

"No, what?"

"Exactly," I say menacingly. He swallows thickly.

"His name's Chuck Shurley," she says, writing furiously on a note pad. "And he's a genius, so don't piss him off."

* * *

><p>"This it?" I ask as Dean pulls the car to the curb.<p>

"Think so. It's what the chick with the tattoo on her ass told us," he answers.

"Oh, so you _were_ lookin'?" I accuse, shutting the car door.

"Hey, _you_ were looking, too!"

"Okay," Sam intervenes. "You're not even mad at him, and you're acting like an asshole. Both of you, drop it." We walk towards the red house and up the steps, and, after the boys share a look, Dean rings the doorbell. A man in a robe answers.

"You Chuck Shurley?" Dean asks.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the 'Supernatural' books?" I add.

"Maybe," he answers. "Why?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam. The Dean and Sam you've been writing about."

Chuck nods once before shutting the glass door. I start pushing the doorbell continuously until he opens the door again.

"Can you stop?"

"I _could_," I concede.

"Look, uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life." He moves to shut the door again but Dean keeps it open.

"See, here's the thing. We _have_ a life. You've been using it to write your books."

"Dean, don't kill the man!" I warn as he pushes his way into Chuck's house. "He's human!"

"Now, wait a minute," Chuck says fearfully, frantically backing up. "Now, this isn't funny."

"Damn straight, it's not funny!"

"You are going to give the man a heart attack, now _stop_ it!" I place two hands on his chest, moving so I'm in between.

"Look, we just want to know how you're doing it," Sam says.

"I'm not doing anything!" Chuck insists.

"Are you a Hunter?" Dean asks.

"What? No, I'm a writer."

"Then how d'ya know so much about the shit we deal with?" I turn my head. "How d'ya know so much about their lives?"

"Is this some kind of a 'Misery' thing?" Chuck asks fearfully. "Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a 'Misery' thing!"

"It's not a 'Misery' thing!" Dean says, moving forward so Chuck collapses on the couch. "Believe me, we are _not_ fans."

"Well, then, what do you want?"

"I'm Sam, and that's Dean," Sam says calmly.

"Sam and Dean are fictional characters," Chuck stresses. "I made them up! They're not real!"

"Come outside, Chuck, I wanna show you somethin'," I order. "Come on."

"But-"

"You can come willingly or I can have my boys carry you out. Your choice."

"What are you thinking, Haze?" Dean asks.

"M'gonna show 'im the boot. C'mon."

"Hazel, I think you mean the _trunk_," Sam corrects.

"Same thing!" We walk outside, Chuck unwillingly, and Dean pops the _boot_.

"Are those real guns?" Chuck asks.

"Yep," Dean answers. "And this is real rock salt, and these are real fake ID's." I roll my eyes.

Chuck chuckles softly and slightly fearfully. "Well, I got to hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans. That's awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house."

"Chuck, stop," Dean orders.

"Please, don't hurt me," he begs.

"How much do you know?" Sam questions. "Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?"

"Wait a minute, how do _you_ know about that?"

"The question is, how do _you_? Hazel, scan him with the red thingy," Dean orders.

"Don't you tell me what to do," I counter. "You _date_ me, you don't control me."

"Please," he bites out.

"Your name's Hazel? No last name?" Chuck asks.

"No last name," I nod. "How did you know that?"

"'Cause I wrote it."

"You kept writing?" Sam asks incredulously.

"Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute," he chuckles. "This is some kind of joke, right? Did that-did Phil put you up to this?"

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam."

"The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down."

* * *

><p>"Easy on the alcohol, there, Chuck," I say as he pours himself some whiskey in a glass and downs it. He startles.<p>

"Oh! Oh, you're still there."

"Yep," Dean says.

"You're not a hallucination."

"Nope."

"Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously I'm a god."

"You're not a god," Sam denies instantly.

"How else do you explain it? I write things, and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through- the physical beatings alone."

"Yeah, we're still in one piece," Dean says.

"I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica."

"Chuck-"

"All for what?" Chuck interrupts Sam. "All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment."

"Okay, you're cut off," I take the glass from his hand and pour it down the sink. "Alright, now, listen t'me. You're not a god. You did not toy with Sam an' Dean. An' if you say one more word about it, I will smack you."

"Hazel's right. You didn't toy with us, Chuck. You didn't create us," Dean says.

"Did you really have to live through the bugs?" Chuck asks.

"Yeah," Sam answers.

"What about the ghost ship?"

"Yes, that, too," Dean answers, so done with all this.

"I am so sorry," Chuck apologises. "I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing-" I make good on my promise and slap him. "Ow!"

"I warned you," I say simply.

"If I would've known it was real, I would've done another pass."

"Chuck, you're not a god!" Dean snaps.

"We think you're probably just psychic," Sam shrugs it off. I walk over to Dean and wrap an arm around his waist.

"Tonight, the world pending, you can take me out for bacon cheeseburgers an' milkshakes," I offer sweetly. "Have we even been on an official date?"

"We went to a bar last week."

"That wasn't a date, that was you hustlin' people for money an' gettin' drunk."

"If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing?" Chuck waves it off. "Writing is hard."

"It seems that somehow, you're just, focused on our lives," Sam continues.

"Yeah, like _laser_-focused," Dean adds. "And we are _definitely_ going out."

"You workin' on anythin' right now?" I ask Chuck.

"Holy crap."

"What?" Dean asks.

"The, uh, latest book," Chuck reaches for some papers on his desk. "It's, uh, it's kind of weird."

"'Weird' how?" Sam asks seriously.

"It's very Vonnegut."

"What's a Vonnegut?" I ask.

"'Slaughterhouse-five' Vonnegut, or 'Cat's Cradle' Vonnegut?" Dean asks, leaning on Chuck's desk.

"What?" Sam asks, surprised.

"What?" Dean says defensively.

"It's, uh, 'Kilgore Trout' Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters," Chuck admits.

"I want every single new book you have, especially what you've got on your next one," I order.

* * *

><p>"I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself- my head hurts," Dean frowns. I give him a kiss on the cheek and go back to frantically searching through these documents.<p>

"There's got to be something this guy's not telling us," Sam says, stuffing clothes into the washing machine.

"'Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.'," Dean reads.

"Stop it."

"'"Stop it," Sam said.' Guess what you do next. 'Sam turned his back on Dean and Hazel. His face, brooding and pensive.' I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your 'brooding and pensive' shoulders." Sam huffs and Dean looks back at the documents. "You just thought I was a dick."

"The guy's good," Sam turns. "Hazel, what are you doing?"

"Searchin'. This guy is seein' you, an' now me 'cause I'm with you. I wanna see if he knows my true name."

Dean steals a piece of paper and starts reading.

"'Hazel was tired. Locked in a cold, damp, grey jail cell, she contemplated on how she got there.' Dude, you got arrested?"

"Misunderstandin'," I say absentmindedly.

"'"Oi," she called, trying to get the fat police officer's attention. "I'd like my one phone call, please. I get a phone call, don't I?"'"

"Quit readin' that."

He glances back at the other piece of paper next to him. "You are _violent_!"

"Why?"

"You just imagined beating me with a shovel!" he accuses before growing curious. "Why a shovel?"

"I can beat you, kill you, an' then bury you, all with the same tool," I laugh.

"Resourceful," Sam comments.

"Hey, who's side are you on?" Dean exclaims.

"Hers," he says instantly, grabbing a random page and reading it. We're all silent for about a minute before Dean speaks up.

"Hey, you were genuinely concerned when we first met," he realizes.

"Of course I was, you were beat to hell," I say simply.

"Yeah, but I was..."

"Never mind, Dean," I wave off. "M'readin'."

_"You're acting like a dick," Sam said when Hazel stormed off._

_"How can you defend her?" Dean roared at his brother, taking a step back. Sam rose from the couch to glare at his brother._

_"She saved your life! _And_ made you food!"_

_"She's not human, Sam!"_

_"You weren't asking when you were flirting with her!"_

_Dean wasn't sure on what to do next. He could go after her and apologise, which was what Bobby wanted him to do, or he could stay here and argue with his brother._

_"I'm going out," he angrily stated, grabbing his jacket from the hook and storming out of the house._ I smile at what I read.

"Gimme that," Dean steals the page from me.

"C'mon, the big bad Dean Winchester don't want me readin' about his innermost thoughts?" I tease, then lean in to whisper in his ear. "You're secretly a big softie, an' I know it."

"I'm not soft where it matters," he whispers seductively.

I gasp playfully. "Dean Winchester, are you propositionin' me?"

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," I wink. "That was bad, though," I laugh.

"Yeah, it was," he agrees.

* * *

><p>"You wrote another chapter," I ask without question in my tone. "Chuck, you seem like a good guy, but you're startin' to piss me off just a bit."<p>

"Please don't hurt me," he says again. "This was all so much easier before you were real."

"We can take it; just spit it out," Dean prompts.

"You especially are not gonna like this," Chuck warns.

"I didn't like _Hell_."

"Dean," I admonish softly.

"What? I'm tellin' the truth. I didn't like Hell."

"Don't make me hurt you, Winchester," I warn. He holds his hands up, showing innocence.

Chuck sighs before explaining more in depth. "It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam."

"Coming t-to kill him?" Dean demands.

"When?" Sam asks.

"Tonight," Chuck answers.

"She's just gonna show up? Here?" Dean presses.

"Uh," Chuck clears his throat and pulls on a set of glasses. "'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion.'," he reads.

Sam busts up laughing. "You're kidding me, right?"

"You think this is funny?" Dean accuses.

"You don't?" Sam counters. "I mean, come on. 'Fiery demonic passion'?"

"It's just a first draft," Chuck defends.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl," Dean says.

"No, uh, this time she's a 'comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana'," he reads.

"Great. Perfect."

"Just to clarify, Lilith is bad?" I ask.

"Lilith held my contract," Dean explains. Then, seeing my puzzled look, he elaborates. "My deal."

"Oh," I draw out the word. "Can we kill her?"

"I called dibs," Sam says.

"Can I help?"

"So," Dean interrupts. "What happens after the... 'fiery demonic' whatever?"

"I don't know," Chuck admits. "That hasn't come to me yet."

"Dean, look, there's nothing to worry about," Sam tries to console his brother. "Lilith and _me_? In bed?"

"Chuck, what's your process?" I ask.

"Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless-"

"Not to mention deadly," I mutter.

"I drink, until I fall asleep," Chuck continues. "The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream."

"First time you dreamt about us?" Dean asks.

"It flowed. It just- it kept flowing. Still does. I-I can't stop it, really."

"You can't seriously believe-"

"Humour me," the older snaps at the younger. Chuck holds out the pages without a word. "Look, why don't we, we just..." Dean trails off, taking the outstretched pages. "Take a look at these and see what's what. You-"

"Knew you were gonna ask for that, yeah," Chuck nods. "And you're gonna scan me with that sonic screwdriver-thing."

"M'I gonna believe what I find?" I ask.

"Nope."

He was right.

* * *

><p>"Dean, come on," Sam brings up what Chuck told us again in the Impala. "'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. Wondering why Hazel was chuckling and not concerned for his well-being like she usually is, he scratched absently at the pink flower Band-aids on his face.'"<p>

"So?" Dean asks.

"_So_, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-aid."

"What's your point?"

"My point is this -all of this- i-is totally implausible. It's nuts!"

"He's been right about _everything_ so far," Dean argues. "You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?"

Sam laughs before reading again. "'Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.'"

"A _tarp_?"

"Yeah. On the real window. And you drive it like that."

"Yeah, well, he might be wrong about the details, but it doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result."

"Actually," I mutter from the back seat.

"So, we're just gonna run?" Sam asks doubtfully.

"We are a _long_ way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith," Dean argues.

"Have you two ever entertained the notion that this whole thing might be unavoidable?" I pitch. "I mean, it's been written down. _That_ is the future. _Our_ future. In fact, quit readin' that. You can't read ahead." I snatch the pages from Sam and fold them in half hamburger-style.

"Why not?" Dean protests.

"You read ahead, it becomes fixed. Fixed point, that means we have to do it, it always happens that way."

"But can't time be rewritten?" Sam asks.

"Not once you've read it. Once you know what's coming, it's written in _stone_. No more readin' ahead. You can read parallel, but not ahead."

Dean brings the car to a slow stop at the roadblock on the way out of town.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asks the cop.

"Bridge is out ahead," the cop says.

"We're just trying to get outta town."

"Yeah, afraid not."

"Is there a detour?"

"Nope."

"There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?"

"To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross that river, you have to take that bridge."

"How deep's the river?"

"Sorry. Afraid you boys and lady are gonna have to spend the night in town." The cop in the stupid hat steps away from the car and back to his post.

"Hazel, give me those pages," Dean orders, physically taking them from my hands.

"Okay, I get it you're stressed, but you don't have to be rude about it. You can be polite," I clip him on the back of the head.

"Okay, this thing says we go out to dinner. So, let's go out."

Dean turns the car around and we head back on the road we came.

* * *

><p>"Hey, this could be a good thing," he says, reading over our future and creating fixed time.<p>

"You're gonna unravel the whole universe, or at the very least have the Time Agency on our arses," I inform him, matter-of-fact.

"If this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path."

"How do you mean?" Sam asks.

"It's a blueprint of what _not_ to do."

"It's _fixed time_!" I argue.

"If the pages say that we go left-"

"Then we go right," Sam finishes.

"Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. Okay, it's opposite day."

"M'sorry, am I invisible?" I snap. "Trust me, Winchester, you can _try_ to change it, but it won't work well."

"Hazel, right now, I don't care. Alright, if we go up against Lilith, then we're dead."

"Then _quit readin'_ the damn thing!"

"It says that we, uh, we get into a fight, so, no fighting," he ignores my instructions. "No research for you, Sam, and- aw, damn it!"

"What?"

"There's a make-out scene in here! Son of a _bitch_!"

"No bacon cheeseburger for you," Sam adds.

"No problem," he says irately, lying through his teeth. "I'll just order something else. Hi, uh, what's good?" he asks the waitress._  
><em>

"Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we has the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country," the blonde smiles and Sam laughs.

"Really?" Dean says, concealing his disappointment.

"I'll just have the cobb salad, please," Sam smiles at her.

"Could I have a chicken caesar wrap, please?" I ask sweetly.

"You sure can, sugar," she smiles.

"I'll have the... veggie tofu burger." Dean looks at Sam, begging him to say something so he can beat the crap out of him, and hands her the menu.

"This whole thing's ridiculous," Sam tells him when she's gone.

"Lilith is ridiculous?"

"The idea of me hooking up with her is."

"Right," he says sarcastically. "'Cause something like that could _never_ happen."

"Okay, you two are actin' like idiots, an' I'm done with it," I cross my arms. "If you somehow _don't_ manage to break the universe, a Time Agent or Shadow Proclamation official will _definitely_ show up here, an' punish us for causin' a temporal anomical disturbance! Dean, you _'ave_ to stop readin' ahead."

"For the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close," Sam says.

"So?" Dean presses.

"So, we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where- this is an opportunity."

"Are you-" he says angrily before forcibly calming himself. "It frustrates me when you say such reckless things."

"Well, it _frustrates_ me when you'd rather hide than fight."

"It frustrates _me_ when you two won't listen t'me when I know what the bloody hell I'm talkin' about," I say. The waitress couldn't have picked a better time to show up than she did.

"Cobb salad for you," she sets Sam's plate in front of him. "Chicken caesar wrap for you, and the tofu veggie burger for you."

"Thank you," I shoot her a smile and she walks off again. I steal one of Dean's chips before tearing into my own meal.

"It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. And this is a battle that we are not ready to fight," Dean stresses. "And we're not gonna blow up the universe."

"Okay, say you're right. There are three ways this can go about. Way one: the universe unravels. Way two: the universe corrects itself -meaning, that burger is a bacon cheeseburger- and we get the Time Agency on our doorstep. Way three (and this is the safest option): _you stop readin' ahead_!"

"I highly doubt we are going to unravel the universe, Hazel. I'm not gonna stop reading ahead. And if the Time whatever comes, we can take them. But we are _not_ fighting Lilith." He uses that condescending smile he uses on people when he thinks they have no idea what they're talking about, on me.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" I hiss rapidly, leaning in so he can hear me.

"Why do _you_ have to be so repetitive?" he whisper-yells back.

"Because I know what I'm talkin' about!"

"You're treating me like I'm an idiot, and I'm not!"

"You're behavin' like one!"

He ignores my insult and takes a bite of his burger.

"Oh my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!"

"I am so sorry," the waitress comes back and takes the burger from him. "I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake."

"Looks like the universe has chosen option two," I frown.

_Did we just have our first fight?_

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	14. Authors pt 2

**It's still Tuesday, **giddyfan**! 11:22 pm! Yeah, I know I'm cutting it close.**

**And as for this chapter, I bid you these three words:**

**Don't hate me.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Fourteen: Authors part two<span>

"Dude, this place charges by the hour," Sam protests as Dean pulls into the Toreador Motel.

"Yeah, well, the book says Lilith finds you at the Red Motel," he explains. "Hence, the, uh, hooker inn. It's opposite day, remember?" I climb out of the car without a word and grab my duffel from the back before Dean can for me. "Can you not be pissed at me, please?" he asks me.

"I understand that when it comes to demons an' angels an' other supernatural shit like that, it's your gig. But when it comes to fixed points an' temporal anomalies, it becomes _mine_," I say calmly, looking into his eyes intensely. "An' I know you're concerned about Sammy, but the more you read ahead, the more fixed it becomes, an' the more I can't do anythin' about it."

"Hazel-"

"I know," I murmur. "You're doin' what you think is best." He reaches for my bag, our hands touching, and I let him take it in the motel room for me. He sets them on one of the beds and zips open his, then pulls out two hex bags. Dean places one on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks.

"Couple of hex bags ought to Lilith-proof the room," he explains.

"So, what? I'm supposed to just hole up here all night?"

"That's exactly what you're gonna do, okay? And no research. I don't care what you do- use the Magic Fingers or, uh, watch 'Casa Erotica' on pay-per-view." He places the last one on the dresser and heads for the door, stopping to steal Sam's laptop.

"Oh, dude, come on..."

"Just call it a little insurance."

"What are _you_ gonna do?"

"Well, the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala. So, I'm gonna go park her. Hazel, you wanna come?"

"Nah, think m'gonna stay here," I answer.

"Hey, and behave yourself, would you? No homework. Watch some porn," he tells Sam. "And hands off my girl."

I roll my eyes at that last comment.

"Dean, she's like an annoying little sister," Sam says.

"Good. Keep it that way." He pulls the door shut behind him and hops in his car, driving away.

"Little sister, huh?" I smile.

"Yeah," he shrugs.

"Well, then, _brother_, let's see what they have on pay-per-view, yeah? How do you work this thing?"

"Actually, Haze, I'm gonna call Chuck and ask him to come over so I can talk to him. That cool?" Sam asks, sitting on the bed.

"If Dean went to go park his car, I think the flower Band-aids have come to play. I have to go anyway." I spontaneously kiss his cheek, grab my denim jacket, and head out the door.

It's nice and sunny out, which is a small consolation to the fact that if Dean hadn't read ahead, I wouldn't have to go out and do this anyway. Nonetheless, if he wants to push fixed points, I'm not going to help him. So, I walk on the sidewalk in the direction the car took off in. Ten minutes, and I come across a minivan parked in the middle of the street, two men with crowbars shattering the rear window of his other girlfriend, and Dean lying unconscious. A little girl is applying pink flower Band-aids to his face, and her mother is kneeling frantically over him, star earrings in her ears.

_'The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars.'_

"Oh, my god. Just take it easy, you'll be okay," the woman reassures him. "What was that? I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you. Are you okay? And sorry about, you know."

Dean slowly sits up, groaning with every move.

"M-my daughter's going through a doctor phase."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're better now," the little girl smiles. I chuckle at that.

"You did a _wonderful_ job, sweetheart," I kneel down to her level, holding my hand up for a high-five. "Thank you for takin' _such_ good care of m'boyfriend for me."

"You're welcome," she says shyly, high-fiving me.

"Oh, no," Dean finally gets a look at his car, struggling to his feet and walking towards the black beauty. "Hazel!"

"Don't look at me, I just got here!" I follow him. "An' m'here because _somebody_ created fixed time by _readin' ahead_!"

"C'mon, we're going to break into Chuck's house. Help me with this tarp. Gotta cover the _hole_ in my car."

"Don't you get pissy with me, Dean Winchester."

* * *

><p>I hear keys rattling in the door, and then the door opens, Chuck walking in with booze in his hands. He shuts the door behind him and walks towards the kitchen, stopping when he sees Dean. He calls his name.<p>

"I take it you knew I'd be here," Dean says, completely pissed off.

"You look terrible."

"That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck."

"Oh." Wow, Dean's terrifying the man.

"That it?" he leans forward threateningly. "Every damn thing you write about me comes true! That's all you have to say is, 'Oh'?"

"Please don't yell at me," he pleads pitifully.

"Why do I get the feeling there's something that you're not telling us?" he rises from his chair and towers above the writer.

"What wouldn't I be telling you?"

"How you know what you know, for starters!" Dean yells at him.

"I don't know how I know, I just do," Chuck insists.

"That's not good enough." He grabs Chuck by the collar and slams him into the wall. "How the hell are you doing this?" he yells.

"Dean, let him go!" Castiel appears. Dean drops him and turns to look at the angel.

"You need to work on your anger," I snap at my boyfriend. "Hi, Cassie."

"Hello, Cara. This man is to be protected."

"Why?" Dean asks cautiously.

"He's a prophet of the Lord."

"Explains the readings I got," I shrug it off. "An' how he doesn't know my name. Not even your God knows my name, an' I'd like to keep it that way."

"How can you believe that, Hazel?" Dean turns his anger on me.

"You speak to me like that again, and I will slap you _so_ hard, your neck will _snap_," I hiss at him.

"You-you're Castiel," Chuck says reverently, "aren't you?"

"It's an honour to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work," Cas tells him.

"Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's-he's he's practically a 'Penthouse' forum writer!" Dean exclaims as Chuck takes the moment to escape and sit in the chair Dean occupied earlier with his booze in his lap. "Did you know about this?"

"I, uh, I might have dreamt about it," Chuck admits, opening alcohol and pouring some in a glass.

"And you didn't tell us?"

"It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness."

"This is the guy who decides our fate?"

"He isn't deciding anything," Cas informs him. "He's a mouthpiece- a conduit for the inspired word."

"The 'word'? The Word of God? What, like the New New Testament?"

"One day, these books, they'll be known as the Winchester Gospel."

"You've got to be kidding me," Chuck and Dean say at the same time.

"I am not... kidding you," Cassie informs Dean.

"If you three please excuse me one moment," Chuck says weakly, darting out of the room and up the stairs.

"Him?" Dean questions. "Really?"

"You should've seen Luke," Cas says simply.

"Why'd he get tapped?"

"That is not the issue right now, Dean. Alright, that can wait five bloody seconds!" I interrupt. "You are actin' like a self-righteous arsehole, and I don't like it."

"I don't care if you don't like it, Hazel. We have more important issues right now. Cas, answer the question."

"Cas, don't you dare," I order. "Dean, your anger is out of control! You _attacked_ Chuck! My goddess, you can't attack everyone who pisses you off!"

"And why not?" he raises his voice.

"Christo."

"What, you think I'm a demon?"

"I'm not sure _what_ you are anymore!" I yell at him before heading for the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he shouts.

"You don't _own_ me! M'older than you are, an' I can do what I damn well please!" I throw open Chuck's door and slam it shut, then use my manipulator to vanish back to the motel room.

* * *

><p>"What do you do when you want to kill your brother?" I ask, startling Sam.<p>

"Uh, try really hard not to, why?" he subtly asks for more, lounging on the bed. I lay down next to him (completely platonically, of course; as pissed as I am at Dean, I'm still with him).

"Okay, maybe kill is a bit of a stretch. I want to physically and bodily harm him."

"Why?" he repeats.

"He's actin' like a... like a dick! Is he _always_ tha' angry? Seriously, he nearly killed Chuck. An' he won't listen to me! He's so pigheaded!"

"Was this before or after the Impala's window got smashed?"

"After," I answer slowly.

"That's probably why. He's projecting his anger onto the next closest thing; unfortunately, in this case, it's you. I'm not excusing him," he says before I can protest. "He definitely and genuinely cares about you, Haze. But sometimes, he doesn't know how to control his anger."

"I like him, too," I admit, unwelcome tears making their appearance. "_So_ much. I just don't know what to do, Sam."

"If you want, I can punch him for you," he offers, pulling me into a hug. "Maybe it'll knock some sense into him."

"Can you?" I ask, and he laughs.

"Sure, Haze."

"I told 'im that if he ever spoke t'me like that again, I'd slap 'im," I say a minute later.

"Good for you," he says. "Hey, when was the last time you slept? I know you don't have to sleep as often as us humans, but you do need to sleep."

"I guess I could catch a couple hours," I give in. "You wake me if anythin' 'appens," I order, looking up at him.

"Scout's honour," Sam swears.

"Were you even a Scout?"

"That's not the point. But I will."

"Thank you." I roll over from his grasp and fall asleep in my glasses.

* * *

><p>"Come on, we're getting out of here," Dean orders, waking me up from my nap.<p>

"Shut up, you'll wake her," Sam snaps, and they lower their voices. "Where?"

"Anywhere, okay?" Dean whisper-yells. "Out of this motel, out of this town. I don't care if we gotta _swim_, we are getting out. Dude, where are all the hex bags?"

"I burned them."

"You _what_?"

"Look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big 'if'-"

"No, no, no. It's more than an 'if'. Chuck is not a psychic, he's a prophet."

"What?"

"Cas showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the gospel of us."

"Was that before or after you yelled at Hazel?"

"I-" Dean stutters before falling silent.

"You can_not_ take your anger out on her like that."

"When did you become her bestest friend, Sammy?" Then, "Ow! Why do you gotta punch me, too? Cas already did!"

"That's from Hazel. Don't try to turn this into a big joke, Dean. She's too good for that. All the shit she's seen hunting with us, and she still has that light in her eyes, and I don't wanna see you being the reason that goes out."

"You're being overdramatic."

"She's been popping pills all day because you keep making this into one big fixed point! She came here and _cried_ herself to sleep."

"But-"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she left after this case is over."

"She wouldn't-"

"Are you so sure? I mean, Dean, I agree that some of the stuff that Chuck wrote is absolutely ridiculous."

"Can we argue in the car after we get the hell out of here?"

"No."

"Lilith is gonna slaughter us."

"Maybe she will, maybe she won't. Is that more important than your girlfriend?"

"I will apologise to her after this case is over. What, you think you can take her?"

"Only one way to find out, Dean, and I say bring her on."

"Sam-"

"You think I'll do it, don't you? You think I'll go dark side."

"Yes! Okay? Yes. The way you've been _acting_ lately? The things you've been _doing_? Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothin', like you were swatting a fly. Cas told me, okay?"

"What else did he tell you?" Sam asks cautiously.

"Nothin' I don't already know. That you've been using your psychic crap, and you've been getting stronger. We just don't know why, and we don't know how."

"It's not what you think."

"Then what is it, Sam? 'Cause I'm at a total loss. Are you comin' or not?"

"No."

Then the motel door slams shut.

"Hazel?" _Shit. I've been caught._

"Yeah, Sam?" I turn over to look at him drowsily.

"You hear any of that?"

"Every word," I stretch out and sit up, then pull my glasses off and clean them with my soft tank top. "You're not gonna go dark side, Sammy. You an' Dean are my friends, an' I care about you both very much. I protect those I care about. Now, I obviously don't know the whole story," I admit, standing and grabbing my jacket by the door, ready to go after my pigheaded boyfriend. "An' it's probably none of my business. But, y'know what, Sam-ster?" I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back. "M'always here for you if you need me. Cross my hearts." I step back and do just so, making him smile. "I'll be back. I've got a big angry brat to deal with." Sam laughs softly at my words and I slip out the room.

I find Dean near the soda machine, talking to the air.

"Well I feel stupid doing this, but... I am fresh outta options. So, please," Dean prays, "I need some help. I'm prayin', okay? Come on. Please."

"Prayer is a sign of faith," Cassie tells him. "This is a good thing, Dean."

"So, does that mean you'll help me?"

"He can't," I inform him, leaning against one of the posts of the motel.

"Cara is right. I'm not sure what I can do."

"Drag Sam out of here- now. Before Lilith shows up," Dean orders.

"It's a prophecy. I can't interfere."

"You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have _never_ asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please."

"Dean, I care about Sam, too. But if I interfere with this fixed point, I will be _severely_ punished," I tell him.

"What you're asking, it's..." Cas trails off, "not within my power to do."

"Why? 'Cause it's 'divine prophecy'?" Dean fumes.

"Yes."

"So, what, we're just supposed to sit around a-and wait for it to happen?"

"M'sorry, sweetheart," I say.

"Screw you," Dean ignores me and tells Cas. "You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need _me_, don't bother knockin'." And then he walks away, passing me without a word.

"Dean! Cas calls.

"What?" he snaps.

"You must understand _why_ I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected."

"I get that."

"If _anything_ threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're Heaven's most terrifying weapon," Cassie hints.

"And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?" Dean connects.

"Yes."

"So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon-"

"Then the most fearsome wrath of Heaven would rain down on that demon," Cas concludes. "Just so you understand... why I can't help."

"Thanks, Cas."

"Good luck." Castiel disappears with the usual sound of his wings taking flight.

"Look, Hazel, I'm sorry-" Dean says before I interrupt him by striding over to him and yanking his head down for a passionate kiss.

"I know. And I forgive you."

"Wanna come with me to kidnap a prophet?"

"Dean, I-I can't-"

"Fine, then I'm kidnapping you, too. Come on."

* * *

><p>Dean lock-picks his way into Chuck's house. Probably the most excitement and terror in this one day than he's had in his lifetime, poor human.<p>

"Dean, it would be in everyone's best interest if you just left it alone!" I hiss.

"You and I both know I can't do that," he says back, flashing me a flirtatious smile as the lock clicks. He opens the door and walks into the living room, me trailing behind uneagerly.

"What are you doing here? I didn't write this," Chuck demands, wrapped in a blanket watching the telly with a glass of -you guessed it- whiskey in his hand.

"Come on," Dean grabs his arm and forces him up. "I need you to come with me."

"What? Where?"

"To the motel where Sam is."

"That's where Lilith is."

"Yeah, exactly. I need you to stop her."

"Are you insane?" he rips his arm from Dean's grasp. "Lilith? I know what she's capable of, Dean, I wrote her!"

"Alright, listen to me," Dean says, backing him into a physical and proverbial corner. "You have an archangel tethered to you, okay? All you got to do is show up and _boom!_ Lilith gets smoked."

"But I-I-I-I-I haven't seen that yet. T-the story- Hazel-"

"I advise we leave it all alone, but I'm stayin' out of this," I shrug.

"Chuck, you're the only shot I've got left," Dean pleads.

"But... I'm just a writer."

"This isn't a story anymore, man! This is real! And you're in it! Now, I need you to get off your ass and fight. Come on, Chuck."

"No friggin' way," he says, stepping out of the corner and around Dean, closer to me and the door. Chuck takes a healthy drink and sets the glass back on the table.

"Okay, how 'bout this, I've got a gun in my pocket, and an alien chick that won't interfere if she values her life. If you don't come with me, I'll blow your brains out."

"I thought you said I was protected by an archangel."

"Well, interesting exercise. Let's see who the quicker draw is."

"I know what my money's on," I wink.

"You-you'd let him do that to me?" Chuck asks me. I hold my hands up in innocence.

"Trust me, Chuck, my man is full of surprises today. Hell, he kidnapped me, too."

"We gotta get back to the motel. C'mon," Dean prompts, and I follow him and Chuck out of his house.

* * *

><p>"Dean, you are breaking several traffic laws!" I inform him, clutching the door handle for dear life as he speeds scarily through the streets.<p>

"You better not puke in my car!" Dean snaps at Chuck, glancing in the rearview mirror. "And we're almost there, just two more minutes!"

One and a half, to be exact. Dean peels into the parking lot and stomps on the brakes, throwing open his car door and yanking Chuck out of his seat in the back. Oh yeah, front seat!

Pulling Chuck by the arm, he hauls him through the parking lot and kicks our motel room door open, then shoves the prophet in.

"I am the prophet Chuck!" he declares. Dean slams the door shut behind me.

"You've _got_ to be joking," the blonde woman I guess to be Lilith exclaims, knife in her hand and towering over Sam, who's on the bed under her. The walls start shaking as she stands.

"Oh, this is no joke," Dean assures her. "See, Chuck here's got an archangel on his shoulder!" The rattling intensifies, and things start breaking and falling off the walls. A bright light shines through the window. "You've got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you're a piece of charcoal! You sure you wanna tangle with that?"

She takes one more look at Sam and then smokes out, the woman falling to the floor.

* * *

><p>"So, a deal, huh?" Dean asks Sam in the car, the tarp still flapping from the back window.<p>

"That's what she said," Sam shrugs.

"To call the whole thing off- angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?"

"That was the gist of it."

"Huh."

"What?"

"You didn't think once about taking it?"

"You kidding me? You spent all day trying to talk me _off_ the Lilith track."

"I'm just saying-"

"She would've found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Hazelnut! Never make _or_ accept a deal from a demon, understand?"

I roll my eyes fondly. "Sure, hypocrite!"

"_That_ was a one-time thing, never to be done again!"

"Anyway, that's not the point," Sam interrupts.

"What's the point?"

"The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running."

"Running from what?"

"Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing."

"What's that?"

"She's _not_ gonna survive the Apocalypse. I'll make sure of that."

And then there is a bright blue light, and then there is nothing.

* * *

><p>I wake slowly, jackhammers running amok in my head.<p>

"Dean," I call. "Sam."

"What the _hell_ just happened?" Dean snaps, rubbing his head.

"We've been transmatted," I groan, rubbing my eyes and cleaning my glasses so I can see. Smooth white brick and tile? And Judoon surrounding us, guns aimed? "No bo ho sho ko ro to so!" I say in Judoon, trying to convey that we come in peace and hoping desperately that I'm pronouncing everything right. The last time I was around Judoon, it was with Dad and Donna when the Earth got stolen by Daleks. "Bo-ko-do-zo-go-bo-fo-po-jo!" The six Judoon soldiers lower their weapons, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. "You boys okay?"

"Fine," Sam groans.

"You think my car crashed?" Dean asks. _He's fine._

"We could be killed here, an' you're worried about your _car_?" I ask incredulously. "Never mind that, you two follow my lead, and I might _just_ be able to get us out of here alive. An' keep in mind that you're human."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hate to say it, Dean, but you're a lower species. If you talk out of turn, you might be punished."

"Why did you lower your weapons?" a cocky Irish-accented Time Agent strides in, snapping at the Judoon forces. "These are the ones who caused that temporal anomaly and nearly blew up the universe!"

"Oi!" I snap, rising to my feet. "Not all of us speak Galactic Base, yeah? A little respect!"

The Time Agent backhands me, and Sam has to rise as fast as Dean and physically hold his brother back.

"Watch the way you speak, _mutt_," he warns. "_You__'re_ the one that needs to show respect to _me_."

"I. Apologise," I say through clenched teeth.

"I'm to take you to the Shadow Architect and the Head Time Agent. Let's go. And keep your guns on them!" he addresses the Judoon. "That girl is the spawn of the Doctor and the Bad Wolf goddess."

All guns rise and are cocked, and we're lead like animals to be slaughtered.

"Haze, how bad?" Sam asks under his breath.

"Bad," I whisper.

"No talking!" the Time Agent snaps.

"Do what he says," I tell them.

"Ha, smartest thing you've said all day, mutt."

"I would appreciate if you would not call me that."

"Well, you don't get a say."

Racist pig.

He leads us into a Shadow Proclamation courtroom, Time Agents and Judoon lining the walls for protection. In the middle of the white room, there is an orb that is used to play back memories, the most accurate accounts of an incident. In the front, there is the Shadow Architect and the Head Time Agent, standing in what would be where the judge sits in a human courtroom.

"Here they are," the Time Agent announces. "Found 'em in your office, Shadow Architect."

_We are so screwed._ The Irish Time Agent takes his post by the door and remains wordless for the rest of the proceedings.

"When we heard there was a temporal anomaly on Earth in 2009, I knew our favourite little regenerating troublemaker would be right in the middle," the Shadow Architect croons.

"If I may-"

"It took fifteen Time Agents to stabilize the disturbance," the Head Time Agent cuts me off, more fierce and strict than the Shadow Architect. "Four were taken into the Void. I have to go tell four families that their sons, husbands, boyfriends, and brothers are dead."

"I realize that humans are a lower species," it kills me to say, "but the only language these two speak is Earth English. Everyone in this room either knows the language or has a translator. If we are to be on trial, then we should at least have the decency to be able to understand what we are speakin' about. Don't you agree?"

"I agree completely," the Shadow Architect says in English. "You look so... human, Hazel."

"Yes, sir." Although, I don't think I look that bad. I'm wearing a white tank top, a black lace see-through t-shirt, my denim jacket, torn jeans, and black leggings underneath with my knee-high black boots.

"Who are your humans, Hazel?"

"Dean an' Sam Winchester, sir," I answer her.

"You're on Earth without your parents and your brother?" the Head Time Agent demands.

"My brother was killed by a Dalek on Earth in 1940; I have been without him for seventeen Earth years. An' -with all due respect, sir- I am currently ninety-seven and a half Earth years old. I am old enough an' responsible enough to be on a planet on my own."

"Well, I beg to differ!" he roars.

"Peace, Marcus," she places her hand on his arm. "Now, we all admit that a mistake has been made. We can't change that. But we can investigate how the mistake was made, and take precautions so that mistakes like this won't be made again. And we can do this in a calm and organized fashion, yes?"

"Yes, sir," I bite out.

"Hazel, why is your face red?" the Shadow Architect asks calmly.

"The Time Agent that came to collect us backhanded me, sir."

"I apologise. Now, let's get on with it, yes? Now, we know there was a temporal event. Hazel, what can you tell us about it?"

She's so freakin' polite and calm and this whole thing is a joke. I already know that there's gonna be punishment. I know how they carry out their punishment. I just hope that they inflict their punishment on me and not my boys. They try to punish Sam and Dean, and they'll kill them. I can't have that happen.

"It was originally a fixed point created by readin' ahead. There was a prophet by the name of Chuck Shurley-"

"A prophet?" the Head Time Agent interrupts.

"Would you like me to continue giving my testimony verbally or telepathically?"

"Watch your tone, _mutt_," he orders, threats lacing his tone.

"Don't call her that!" Dean snaps.

"Hazel, if you want to keep your humans, I suggest you keep a better handle on them, or we will be forced to take action," the Shadow Architect warns.

"Shadow Architect, sir, this is all just one big show. It's a _formality_ for your _records_," I bite out. "Either way, we will be punished in one form or another, so why don't I make it simple for all of us? These two are early twenty-first century humans from Earth. I did not explain the dangers of readin' your own future carefully enough."

"Whoa, wait-"

"That's not-" Sam says at the same time Dean protests.

"If you two don't shut up, they will kill you!" I hiss, cutting them both off and turn back to the Shadow Architect and Head Time Agent. "You said it yourselves, these humans are my responsibility. This was my fault. I'll take full responsibility for our actions causin' the temporal disturbance an' the lives lost tryin' to seal it up."

"Hazel, don't do this," Dean pleads.

"_Shut_ up, Winchester!"

"You do know what this means, don't you, Hazel?" the Shadow Architect asks in disbelief.

"Yes, sir, I do," I answer calmly. "My only request is that these two humans be transmatted back to where they were at the exact place and time they were taken from. I will take full responsibility and accept full punishment if you let them go."

"Hazel-"

"Be quiet, Sam," I snap. "This is the way it's going to be."

"This is _bullshit_; Hazel, you can't do this! Okay, listen up, mooks! Hazel, here, kept telling us that this would happen, and I didn't listen to her!" Dean informs them. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"That may be, but that doesn't matter," the Shadow Architect leans over. "Hazel has grown up in a time machine, with a man who relatively follows the rules. She knows better. And she should have convinced you more explicitly. Plus, you are human. She is, genetically, eighty percent Time Lord and twenty percent human."

"How can that be?" Sam asks curiously.

"Time Lord DNA has more power than human DNA," I explain, trying to get them to shut up. "You send them home; they have nothing to do with this. They're _human_."

"Why are you so protective of them?" the Head Time Agent demands.

"Because, like the Shadow Architect said, they _are_ my humans. An' if you get your hands on 'em, you'll experiment on 'em like wild animals. I can't have that."

"It is your emotions that cripple you," the Shadow Architect says wisely.

"At this point, sir, I don't care." I turn around to my boys. "Take this," I hand Dean my mobile. "When you get back, slide for emergency call, an' ring my mum. _Don't_ ring m'dad."

"Why?" Sam asks.

"Because, he will go absolutely _ballistic_. You have never seen him angry, Sam Winchester, an' you should thank Heaven for _that_. Don't fight the Time Agents or the Shadowmaids and Shadowvalets. Whichever, they will make sure you get home."

"Hazel-"

"I'll come back, Dean. Cross my hearts. Nothin' in this universe can keep me away from where I wanna be," I vow, crossing my hearts with both hands. "I _will_ come back. I'm sorry."

I step away and they're taken by the transmat beam, protesting the whole time until they vanish from my sight.

"Okay. I am ready. Take me to your table, Head Time Agent, an' 'break' me."

"I've always wanted to see what colour your blood is, mutt," he sneers, stepping down from the judge's platform and grabbing me by the hair. "How your skin breaks when I whip you."

I do not fight back.

* * *

><p><strong>Please don't hate me?<strong>

**TBC**

**And please review!**


	15. Greetings

**Hola beautiful people! I hope you're still with me and don't hate me for that last chapter hehe. Life gets a bit better here. Well, ish. You're welcome :D**

**Meh, it's late and I'm tired. I was gonna say something else, but I forgot. Oh well.**

**Please review!**

**OH! This is the episode **Jump the Shark** from the one and only **Supernatural**. :) But that wasn't what I forgot :(**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Fifteen: Greetings<span>

I am becoming really tired of the repetition.

_"Stop movin', Lyra."_ or _"Knock it off, Lyra."_ or even _"Lyra Marie, don't make me full-name you.__"_ It's bad enough my mother uses my middle name, much less my complete true one.

"Are we almost done?" I groan as she feels the scars on my back. Those will disappear when I regenerate completely; the half-regeneration did little for them.

"Almost, sweetie," she says, applying a healing balm. It stings like you wouldn't believe, and she has to rub it up and down my back, coating the angry red lines so they'll heal. "Marcus, huh?"

"Yeah, that Head Time Agent bastard. Enjoyed callin' me a mutt an' an abomination; practically the only words out of his stupid mouth."

"M'sorry, sweetie, but you did the right thing."

"I know. You know how they are. They would've tested on 'em or maimed 'em or somethin' equally as bad. Dean could probably take it, Hell an' all, an' Sammy could hold out, but I love them both too much to let that happen." I hiss in pain when she hits a particularly tender and raw spot.

"One last treatment an' we can take you back to your precious Winchester boys."

"Mum," I groan, this one not from pain.

"What?" she chuckles. "I tease you 'cause I love you, Lyra."

"Tha' doesn't mean that Lyra has to- shit," I hiss, "like it."

"Sweetie, you know I don't mind your swearin', but your father does."

"No, no, no, please tell me you didn't tell 'im," I say frantically, moaning in pain.

"I didn't, why?"

"Daddy hates Dean. He'd blame him for all this. God, Mum!" I bite down on a motel pillow to keep from screaming.

"M'sorry, m'sorry!" she says. "M'done, you just gotta lay still for a while, sweetie. Take a rest."

I do what she says, falling asleep instantly.

* * *

><p>I usually don't sleep often, a couple hours every other night, but since my 'stay' at the Shadow Proclamation, it seems like all I've been doing is just that: sleeping. Of course, sleeping is the way a body finishes regenerating, even half ones.<p>

My boys did exactly what I told them to, calling my mother and giving her the whole story. Apparently Dean pissed off a Shadowvalet, because the side of his face was bruised and bleeding from the Shadowvalet's coloured diamond ring when he struck him. Anyway, Mum somehow negotiated with the Shadow Proclamation and got me free. I was there for about two of their days, which amounts to three Earth days. Then, Mum took me to a random motel and started healing me with regeneration energy. We've been here for about a week.

"I wonder how many liquor stores Dean's drank," I say conversationally, taking a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich Mum burnt.

"You think he'd drink a whole liquor store?" she laughs.

"Mum, I think he'd drink _several_," I chuckle.

"You certainly know your man well."

"Yes. I do."

"So, uh, your father hates Dean?"

"Well, okay, maybe 'hate' is too strong a word," I admit. "Dad has an immense _dislike_ for Dean Winchester. How's that?"

She laughs.

"Yeah, I think that would work," she chuckles, taking a bite. "Oh! These are _really_ burnt!"

"You're just seein' this _now_?" I laugh along with her. "Well, I guess River Song can't make grilled cheese," I say cheekily. "Pizza?"

"Pizza," Mum nods.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mum, you've been keepin' an eye on my boys?" I ask the next morning, loosely fastening my bra.<p>

"I've been trackin' your mobile, but not necessarily keepin' an eye on 'em, why?"

"You know where they're at?" I ask, pulling on a black t-shirt with the AC/DC logo. I stole it from Dean's duffel a while back.

"Let me check," she taps a few buttons on her own vortex manipulator (that works better than mine, of bloody course). "Windom, Minnesota," Mum announces.

"Mmm, I miss my two idiots," I name-call fondly, wincing when I move a certain way. "Wonder what they're huntin' now. Or if they're huntin' at all."

"Well, you'll be back with them soon enough," Mum says.

"Good, 'cause I'm bored."

"Only _you_ after sustainin' life-threatening injuries would get bored," she chuckles fondly.

"I get it from my mother," I quip cheekily.

"Oi!" she throws a pillow at me, and I bust up laughing with her. "No, but in all honesty, c'mere, sweetie."

I rise from the bed and move to stand in front of her.

"None of that nonsense," she yanks the hairtie out of my hair, letting it fall down past my shoulders. Then, my mother runs her fingers through my hair, mussing up the now-long red locks.

"Mum," I protest.

"I know, I know, just itchin' t'be back with your boys. M'just braiding it out of your way for you, sweetie," she insists innocently, turning me around. "You've got everythin' you need?"

"Yes, Mum," I answer patiently. "An' you're stallin'."

"I'm doing no such thing. What are you doing?"

"Dean's shirt is a dress on me," I say, grabbing another hairtie off my wrist. I pull the shirt up and tie it off at the back, seemingly having a little black tail. Then I cuff the sleeves.

"M'nearly done," Mum reassures me. She ties my hair off and spins me around again. "There. Gorgeous, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mum," I smile, kissing her cheek.

"You're welcome, Lyra," she kisses my forehead and steps back. "Now, go get your man, yeah?"

"Yeah. You programmed the tracer for my mobile phone?"

"In your vortex manipulator."

I programme the manipulator to take me to my boys.

"Love you," I say instead of good-bye, then disappear in a flash of blue light.

* * *

><p>I appear outside of a motel in Windom, Minnesota, where it is dark outside. No Impala in sight, so either Dean or Sam must be out. But my mobile's still in one of the rooms. Glancing at my manipulator, I follow the signal to one of the doors, then knock.<p>

"Sam! Dean! One of you crazy bastards better let me in right this second!" I shout, banging on the door. "I know you're in there!"

"Go!" Sam throws open the door and runs out of the motel room, a teenager following him.

"Why are you runnin'?" I call, following them.

"There's something in the motel room!" he answers, darting down the stairs, shotgun in hand. "Where's your car?"

"Over here," the kid answers him.

"Keys," Sam orders and he tosses them to the younger Winchester. He darts over to a flatbed truck and scrambles to unlock the door.

"Who's the kid?" I ask.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he says.

"Hey, I can't be any younger than you!" the kid snaps.

"Ha! You've got no idea," I retort. All of a sudden, something tries to pull Sam under the car. "Sam, give me your hand!" I shout at him, and he does what I say. Headlights appear, lighting up the area a little more. "Kid, a little help!" He darts over and grabs Sam's other hand, and we try to yank him out of harms way. "Ugh, what has your brother been feeding you?"

"Very funny," Sam snaps. We manage to pull him out from under the truck and Dean grabs the dropped sawed-off and fires it under the car.

"That would've been nice about twenty seconds ago!" I jab goodnaturedly.

"Hazel?" Dean asks in disbelief, standing. I do the same and stride over to him, yanking him down by his striped tie and kissing him with all I've got.

"Hello, sweetheart," I beam when we break away. "Love the tie."

"Why do you look better in that shirt than I do?" he asks playfully.

"Because. I just do."

He wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in a hug, and I definitely don't mind. His touch will be welcome as long as I live, ginger or not.

The kid lays down on the asphalt.

"S'good t'see you, Sammy," I smile. "Almost got munched by that car."

"Shut up," he says with a smile of his own. I kneel down and give him a hug, which he returns.

"I'll ask again. Who's the kid?"

"Adam Milligan," the kid says, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "Nice to meet you."

"M'Hazel. Dean's girlfriend, or at least I think I still am. How long've I been gone?" I turn around to look at my man.

"Two weeks," he answers. "Too long."

"Dammit, did I miss your birthday?"

"Nope. It's only the twentieth, Hazelnut."

"Perfect," I smile, kissing him again.

"And of course you're still my girlfriend. With an ass like that..."

"Ooh!" I squeal when he smacks my arse. "None of that nonsense, Dean Winchester!"

He just laughs and holds me closer.

"Oh, kit off," I playfully shove him away. "Move the car an' see if there's anythin' under it that could've yanked on your poor brother."

"What about poor Dean?"

"What _about_ poor Dean?" I retort, crossing my arms.

"Poor Dean had to sleep alone for two weeks."

"Poor Dean better do what he's told else I'll remember this moment when I'm thinkin' about what to get 'im for 'is birthday."

He springs into action pretty quickly after that, handing me the sawed off and taking the keys from Sam-ster. Dean climbs into the truck, starts it, and backs it up to reveal a lid off a storm drain and a faint trail of black blood.

"You nicked it, sweetie," I call. He hops out of the truck and slams the door. "S'gone."

"Did you see anything?" Dean asks Sam, taking the sawed off shotgun from me and carrying it back to the trunk of the Impala.

"I didn't get a good look," Sam admits.

"What the hell _is_ this thing?"

"Why-who-should we go after it?" the kid-_Adam_ asks.

"No, no," Dean answers. "In _that_ maze? That thing's long gone."

"All right, so, we don't know what it is, but we do know who it's going after: Joe Barton, Adam's mom-" Sam says.

"And Adam. It was under his truck, just waiting for him."

"It set a trap, and I walked right into it."

"S'not your fault, Sammy," I tell him.

"Hazel's right and so are you- there's a pattern," Dean says. "Joe Barton was a cop. I'm pretty sure he helped out Dad."

"What does your dad have to do with anythin'?" I ask.

"Dad had a lot more secrets than I realized. We think we're hunting the thing he did, only it got away. Again. So, we've got him, Dad's girl, and his son."

"So _that's_ why the kid's around," I connect. "He's your half-brother?"

"Yeah," Sam confirms. "All the people Dad knew in town."

"At least we know why it's back," Dean says.

"It wants revenge," the kid agrees.

* * *

><p>"Got any food around?" I ask as we sneak into Adam's crime scene of his mother's house. Adam and I duck under the tape, but Dean (being Dean) just rips it out of the way.<p>

"I don't know, why?" he answers my question with a question.

"Hazel can _cook_, but it doesn't matter," Dean interrupts. "Grab your stuff. We'll hit the road."

"Speaking of Hazel, Hazel wants her mobile back," I chirp as Adam heads up the stairs. Dean reaches into his jacket and pulls it out, handing it to me. I have three missed calls from the Brigadier, two from Martha, and three from My. I decide to call them back later.

"We shouldn't leave," Sam announces.

"Yeah, let's stay here, where the kid's mom got ganked," Dean says sarcastically. "Good one."

"I'm serious."

"No, Sam, we're gonna take the kid, we're gonna drop him off at Bobby's, and then you and me are gonna come back here and finish what Dad started."

"How? We got no leads, no witnesses. We _do_ have what this thing wants."

"Look, if the thing wants the kid, I think between the three of us, we can protect 'im," I pitch.

"You two want to use the kid as _bait_?" Dean accuses. "That why you wanna stay here, Sam?"

"Maybe this thing will come back," he says. "We could train Adam, get him ready."

"He could _die_, Sam."

"We could _all_ die, Dean. Even if we do kill this thing, there are tons of other freaks that want revenge- on Dad, on us."

"Samuel Winchester-"

"What if they find the kid instead, and he's not ready?" he cuts me off.

"I'll do it," Adam walks back in with a bag over his shoulder. "Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I want to do it."

"Now, you see that? That right there _proves_ that the kid is your brother. An', ultimately, it's his choice. Not yours," I inform my boys.

"Whose side are you on?" Dean accuses.

"My own," I snap right back at him. "Three against one, baby. Let it go, an' buy me a milkshake."

* * *

><p>Sam's teaching the kid to shoot.<p>

"It's easy, just feel the recoil and time the trigger pulls. Three taps," he coaches, giving the kid the gun. "Go ahead."

Adam hits one in the bulls-eye and two really close to it.

"Beginner's luck, right?"

"Nah, kid, tha's just good shootin'," I smile, taking a sip of my strawberry milkshake.

"She's right, you're a natural. Haze, you wanna go?" Sam offers.

"Why, Sam, I would _love_ to show off for you. Hold my milkshake?" He trades me the gun for the milkshake. "An' if you drink _any_ of it, I will hurt you."

"One sip?"

"No. Hey, Dean! Wanna watch your girlfriend shoot a gun?" I call to the man leaning against his precious car.

"She here?" he jokes, and I fire by his feet. "Son of a bitch!" he swears, jumping up and making me and Sam laugh.

"Okay, you see that 'O' in 'FORBIDDEN'?" I ask, taking aim. "Ten bucks says I hit in the middle."

"Adam, I'm gonna save you a lot of money right now. She bets on something, she's damn sure that it'll work out in her favour," Sam says. "Don't bet with her."

"Shut up, Sammy!" I laugh, firing without looking. "He's such a liar, don't even listen to him."

"Really, 'cause you hit exactly where you said you were going to, Haze," he smiles. "_Without_ looking."

"Is tha' a challenge, young Winchester?"

"I believe it is."

"Fine. No lookin'," I promise, covering my eyes with my left hand and turning my head to the side. I fire three times. Then, I hold the gun like a gangster would, and fire twice more. "How'd I do?" I uncover my eyes and smile toothily.

"That's why we don't bet with her. The only person that's dumb enough to do that is Dean," Sam says. I eject the magazine from the gun and it hits the ground.

"Here, kid," I hand Adam the gun, then take my Sonic strawberry milkshake back from Sam and take a healthy sip.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" Adam asks me.

"Because I'm older than you," I shrug. "Easy as that."

"How _much_ older?"

"Well, how old are you?"

"Nineteen. How old are you?"

"Okay, sweetheart, first off, never ask a woman her age. You take how old you _think_ she is, and subtract about two or three years. Five or ten for the older ones. Now, how old do you _think_ I am? Forget all that stuff I just told you; doesn't work for me."

"Um, twenty-one, twenty-two? I don't know."

I smile. "I look good for my age, don't I, Dean?" I call to him, looking over at my man. "Are you- you quit imaginin' me naked, Dean Winchester!"

He laughs and continues staring at me lewdly.

"Hey, Sam, lemme see that gun for a second," I request keeping my eyes on Dean.

"You wouldn't," he says, eyes narrowing.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. I know where to hit where it won't kill you," I grin deviously. He swallows thickly.

"I'm sorry?" he tries. I walk over to him and peck him on the lips.

"Yes, you are."

"Goddamn, I've missed you, Hazelnut," he murmurs, taking me into his arms.

"I've missed you, too," I reassure, and let him kiss me.

"Hey! No tonsil hockey!" Sam calls.

In response to that, Dean and I both hold up our middle fingers, making Sam and Adam laugh.

* * *

><p>Sam is telling Adam old war stories, stories before my time with my boys.<p>

"Sammy really likes the kid," I observe, leaning against Dean. "Why don't you?"

"I don't like the fact that my dad had this whole other life. You know he taught the kid to drive the Impala? _Pastor Jim_ taught me how to drive, and _I_ taught Sammy. The old man wasn't even around. And-and he took the kid to a ballgame."

"The kid has a name, Dean, an', like it or not, you're his brother, too. How would you like it if you found out tha' you had two older brothers tha' you didn't know about?"

"I..." he thinks. "I hate it when you're right."

"I know, sweetheart," I kiss his cheek.

"Being a hunter isn't a job, Adam. It's life," Sam tells the kid. "You're pre-med. You got a girlfriend, friends?" Adam nods. "Not anymore you don't. If you're really gonna do this, you can't have those kinds of connections- ever. They're weaknesses. You'll just put those people in danger- get them killed. That's the price we pay. You cut 'em out, and you don't look back. There's only one thing you can count on: family."

"Then why's Hazel around?" Adam asks.

"Because," I smile. "Hazel doesn't do what she's told."

"Sam, can I talk to you?" Dean asks, and the two of them walk to another room. I make my way over to the kid and sit down where Sam was, absentmindedly braiding my hair.

"Don't let Sam-ster scare you. Huntin' is actually fun in that runnin'-for-your-life kinda way," I tell him.

"How did you meet my brothers?" he asks curiously.

"Well, you've got to understand, one thing I'm good at is runnin'. Since I began toddlin' around, I ran. I ran _everywhere_. Still do. An' one place I ran to was Bobby Singer's, a good friend of mine. Stayed there a few days, workin' on odd jobs; when, all of a sudden, those two idiots come burstin' in, beat to hell. I stitch Dean up, an' Bobby deals with Sam. One of the first things Dean says to me, he says, 'I can't help but look at the finer things in life.'"

Adam snickers at that.

"Tell me about it! Dean Winchester is a _total_ womanizer."

"So, you hunt with them?"

"Yes, but on rare occasions, I have to go on my own for a bit," I answer.

"Why?"

"Well, I have two jobs in Great Britain: one with UNIT, one with Torchwood."

"Isn't UNIT top secret?"

"Mmm-hmm. Now, listen to me very carefully," I say, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I don't know who you think you are, or if you are who you say you are. If I find out you _aren't_ who you say you are, don't you think for one _second_ I won't hesitate to kill you myself. Understand?"

He nods frantically and fearfully.

"I am a woman of my word, Adam Milligan."

"I-I understand," he stutters.

Our conversation is interrupted by a door slamming and the Impala starting up and peeling away.

"Hazel?" Sam appears in the doorway, pleading look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Little does Dean know, I put a tracer in the Impala a long time ago. Just got to pull up the signal. Oh, Adam, another reason why they keep me around? M'the Dean whisperer," I wink, then walk out the door. As far as Adam knows, I'm just like him. I'm 'normal' (but I stick to the firm belief that normal is just a setting on the machine). Glancing at the night sky and smiling when I see the stars, I disappear from sight.

* * *

><p>Dean's driven himself to a graveyard. I follow him to some sort of a crypt, and watch as he pries the door open.<p>

"Dean, sweetheart," I call softly. He must've heard me coming, because he doesn't startle. "What are you doin'?"

"Lookin' around," he answers quietly. "This thing's been nabbing dead people, too, see?" Dean shines his torch on a cracked concrete coffin.

"What is that, embalming fluid?"

"Yep. Not only nabbing, but opening."

"That's disgusting."

"Yes it is. Hey, come look at this." I follow him and his beam of light to what looks to me like another grave. "Will you hold this?"

"Sure, sweetie," I take the torch from him and position it so he can see what he's doing. Reaching for a crowbar, he jams it in the little bit between the block and the wall, and pries it open. He drops it and then uses his hands to pull it the rest of the way. "What do you see?" I ask as he moves a second block.

"Hey, aim that down here," he orders.

"What is it?"

"Looks like a... tunnel; like someone carved out a tunnel. Hey, you're smaller than-"

"Have fun."

"Dammit, I was afraid you'd say that. Here, give me the flashlight, then." He holds his hand out for it and I give it to him.

"Tell me when you hit the end!"

"Got it," he groans. "God, I hate this. Well, home sweet home," Dean says after a bit.

"What is it? What d'ya see?"

"Uh, looks like a tunnel system hub," he calls. "Ugh, sloppy joe."

"What?"

"Found a human arm, a hell of a lot of blood, and glasses; that's disgusting."

"Hey, Dean?" I call nervously, hearing movement outside. "You got your phone on you?"

"Of course, why?"

"I'm comin' t'you." I hastily programme the device and vanish.

* * *

><p>"Ew, this place is disgusting!" I whisper.<p>

He shushes me. "Did you get a good look at what was out there?"

"Well, I would've stayed, but the Shadow Proclamation destroyed my sonic pistol; I have to buy a normal one, now."

"You came unarmed?" he whispers angrily.

"I don't usually need a gun!" I whisper back.

"Shh, shh, shh. You hear that?" he asks, referring to the scraping sound.

"Unfortunately."

He shines the torch through the tunnel and, must not like what he sees, because fires his gun. Then, Dean yanks me down when dirt flows through the tunnel. "Oh, son of a bitch!" he fumes when our way out is blocked. He pulls out his cell phone and raises it to the ceiling. "Son of a _bitch_!" he swears again. "Alright, come on. Let's see if we can find a way out of this joint."

"You're gonna make me climb through tunnels, aren't you?" I ask as he pulls me up.

* * *

><p>"I can't get the door open," he informs me after slamming himself against the wooden door.<p>

"I hate crypts," I tell him.

"Yeah, you and me both." He shines the light all along the floor, and I try to brush the dirt off my jeans and out of my hair, not paying any attention to the human bones and partially decomposed skeleton on the floor. "Hey, come look at this," he calls, trying to open a casket. I move over to help him.

"Oh," I immediately cover my mouth and nose at the stench until I can manage to switch that sense off. I'm a lot weaker than usual.

"That's Adam's mom," he says, leaning away from the scent. Poor woman was disemboweled.

"Dean, there's another one. Come help me." I struggle to lift it, but with my man's help, we manage. "Oh, God."

It's Adam.

"We gotta get out of here," he says with determination, then tries kicking the door through, again.

"Dean, Dean, that's not gonna work!" I grab his arm.

"You got any other bright ideas?"

"Um, let me think, let me think. Hey, gimme that, I got an idea," I take the flashlight from him and aim it at the ceiling. "Stained glass window."

"You're brilliant," he compliments as he breaks the metal bar off of one of the caskets. "Holy crap. Look out." He climbs on top of the casket and starts shattering the window. Then, (my brilliant man) he holds the bar just so and lifts himself up through the hole. "C'mon," he orders, reaching a hand down for me to grab. Dean pulls me through the hole.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I smile. "Let's go save Sam."

* * *

><p>I hear Sam cry out, and Dean and I sneak in. He gave me his favourite pistol to use, the one that fires a little high so I have to compensate.<p>

"I'll go around the side," I mouth, and he nods.

"Sam, the more you struggle, the faster you're gonna bleed out," not-Adam says. "So you might as well lie back and relax."

"Hey!" Dean yells, and fires the sawed-off.

"They're ghouls!" Sam shouts.

"Which means head-shot!" Dean calls to me, and kills not-Adam's not-mom.

"You untie Sam, I'm gonna gank the other ghoul," I say, and he nods.

"Hazel!" Sam tries to warn, but the ghoul turns me around and throws me through the glass wall, my gun lost in the process.

"Hello, _mutt_," not-Adam smiles menacingly before punching me in the face.

"Didn't your mummy warn you about hitting women with glasses?" I sneer before flipping us over and slugging him twice as hard. He kicks me off.

"No, she didn't," he says, reaching for a lamp to break over my head. I grab his arm and make him drop it, then I slam him into the staircase and run back for my gun. "Get back here, you alien bitch!"

"Hazel?" Dean asks worriedly.

"Your brother is bleedin' out; I have this well under control!" I tell him, then dart into the kitchen. "Come and get me, you bastard!" I taunt.

"A gun, Hazel Marie? Now, that's cheating," the ghoul says before slamming my right hand to the wall to try to make me drop the gun. I kick his legs and he goes down.

"Nice try," I say, switching hands. "I'm ambidextrous, you dumbarse."

I shoot him with the gun in my left hand twice, both head shots, the second shot just making sure.

"And I'm a woman of my word." I kick his corpse and walk over to Sam and Dean. There are bowls with blood in them on the floor, Sam with towels around his arms, and Dean pressing on the towel-clad wounds. "Sam, you're gonna need a transfusion an' stitches at the very least."

"I'll drive, let's go," Dean orders.

* * *

><p>"You sure we should do this?" Sam asks as Dean snaps a thick stick in half.<p>

"Ghouls didn't fake those pictures," he says, pouring kerosene on actual-Adam's wrapped corpse. "They didn't fake Dad's journal. Adam was our brother. He died like a hunter; he deserves to go out like one."

"Maybe we can bring him back... get ahold of Cas, call in a favour."

"No, Adam's in a better place." Dean lights the match and drops it on the body, which goes up in flames. "You know, I finally get why you and Dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person."

I decide to step away and return the missed calls on my mobile and let them have their moment. They've been through a lot these past days, and it isn't in my place to intrude on this right now. They need their time, and I'm willing to give it to them.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	16. Appearances pt 1

**Hi! Happy (late) Christmas! I got the lifeproof case I wanted, some Doctor Who shirts, a couple Doctor Who books (**Touched by an Angel** with 11, Amy, and Rory, and the Mad Libs), candy, money (visa gift card, starbucks, itunes, and cash), and one of Demi Lovato's secret color-things coming to me soon. A 15 year old's dream!;) What did you guys get? I'm curious to know;).**

**Warning: non-beta'd (well, nothing here is beta'd) lemon ahead. Since I'm 15 and have never had sex before (and proud of it!) all my knowledge comes from a google search on how to write sex scenes and lemons I've read on here. hehe. So, if anything's wrong, that's why. If you don't wanna read it, it's separated by bold warnings. You're welcome.**

**Supernatural episode** The Rapture**. This story is almost done! It's got like five or six more chapters. I'll end it with **Lucifer Rising**. If you want a sequel, you've got till the end of that to tell me.**

**I've never written so much on one thing before!:D**

**Don't forget to review! You can tell me how much you love the story, or criticize it, or if you want a sequel, or what you got for Christmas! I'm honestly curious to know what you got!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Sixteen: Appearances part one<span>

"Kid, am I glad to see you," Bobby wraps me in a tight hug as soon as the Impala comes to a stop and I'm out of the car.

"They told you?" I squeak out, and he loosens his hold so I can breathe.

"Yeah, Hazel, they told me. Girl, I oughta kick your ass four ways from Sunday for pulling a stunt like that."

"And what would you have had me do, Bobby?"

"_You_ are gonna eat something, drink something, and then sleep for a good five hours. Human or not, you're gonna do what I say. Understand me?"

"I suppose," I grumble, stepping away from him and into the house. "Oi! But don't expect this kind of compliance from me regularly!" I shout back, making him chuckle. Pulling my hair up in a loose bun, I grab a beer from the fridge and a potato from a bag on the floor. Then, I grab a plate and a knife. Slicing the potato nearly in half, I drop it on the plate and cram it in the microwave.

"What really happened, kid?" Bobby comes behind me, taking my beer away.

"Okay, I know that it's laced with holy water, but you can barely tell," I protest. "May I please have it back?"

"No, you may not, not until I get some answers."

I sigh and watch the brown potato rotate slowly in the microwave, standing there, contemplating on whether I should tell him or not. I know he's not gonna leave it be until I answer him, but I haven't told anyone what happened, not even my own mother. But Bobby Singer is different. He isn't related to me, but he is as much family as Peter was, as Mum and Dad are. Like Jack, only less immortal and not so sex addict as the ex-Time Agent is, but equally responsible and protective when it comes to me. Albeit in their own ways, but nonetheless similar.

"One hundred lashes," I say in a really small voice, "for every man lost to the Void trying to fix the anomaly. Marcus would've killed them both; I _had_ to stay. An' now... my back looks like a piece of patchwork." I unbutton my shirt and slip it off, closing my eyes tight to try to stop the tears and taking a deep breath to try to control my voice.

"Does it-does it hurt?" Bobby clears his throat.

"Not so much anymore. If I move the wrong way, it smarts a little," I answer honestly. "Uncle Bobby, please say something."

"I don't know _what_ to say, Hazel. He-he carved the word 'mutt' into your skin. I'm... Not a lot of things shock me anymore, kid," he admits. The microwave goes off, startling me, and I pull my top back on and pull the plate out. "What'd your mom say?"

"That I did the right thing."

"How can she-" he says angrily but I cut him off.

"Those will heal in due time!" I hiss at him. "I can take the memories, put them in a box, and never see them again. _That_ is better than the alternative, than having Sam and Dean _dead_!"

"You're right, kid, but that doesn't mean I have to like it one damn bit."

"I never said you did." I take the beer from his grasp and carry it to the table, where I set it down and eat my meagre meal.

* * *

><p>"You have the shimmer device?"<p>

"You're beginning to sound more American than British, child," she laughs.

"You are merely a supplier, nothing more, nothing less. And I am _not_ a child."_  
><em>

"That just confirmed it, child."

I take a deep breath and blow it out. "I have no patience for this, today, Mishaela. Either you will do as I say or I will sever your timeline."

She looks at my glowing eyes and sees that I am not joking.

"Oh, child, what have they done to you?" she gasps.

"The shimmer device," I stress. "Now."

"Alright, alright, miss," she says, rummaging in her wooden cart for the thing I am requesting. "Ah, here it is." She pulls out what looks like a nicotine patch. "Shimmer in sticker form. You know how to use it, child?"

I roll my eyes at the unwanted petname. "Yes, I do. Thank you, Mishaela."

I take the patch and vanish from her sight.

* * *

><p>"Happy birthday," I kiss my boyfriend awake near noon.<p>

"Ugh, don't remind me," he frowns. "I'm _thirty_."

"And I'm ninety-seven. You're not _old_, Winchester."

"I _feel_ old."

"Oh, you big baby. Well, I guess if you're such an old man, you don't get your birthday present."

"I am _so_ young, you have no idea," he quickly changes his attitude, and I laugh.

"Well, _youngin'_, why don't you get dressed? I'll meet you downstairs," I wink. "Somethin' casual. Jeans will do." Then I skip off to my room and pull on a little blue dress and black tights. I pull the patch out of my bag and peel it off the paper, pressing it to the back of my neck. It instantly conforms to the colour and texture of my skin, as if it wasn't there, and the scars on my back vanish. I smile and skip downstairs.

"What're you dressed all nice for?" Sam asks.

"It's Dean's birthday," I smile. "M'takin' 'im out for lunch, an' then m'gonna have my wicked way with him in a nice motel."

"Whoa, okay, you and I are gonna have a nice, long talk about the concept of 'too much information' when you get back, Haze."

"Yeah, okay, Sam," I wave off. "Dean! Hurry up!"

"I'm _coming_! God, woman!" he complains, thumping down the stairs, and I laugh at him. "Where we going?"

"If I told you, that would ruin the surprise, sweetheart," I smile.

"Sam, tell me everything you know."

"Sammy, don't you dare," I glare at him.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam says. "I'm more afraid of the alien chick than I am of you."

"Don't wait up!" I beam, yanking Dean out the door.

* * *

><p>'For the First Time' by the Script is playing in the diner Dean chooses when we walk in.<p>

"So, uh, anything you can tell me about today, or are you gonna keep it one big secret?"

"Um, no supernatural or alien shit?" I try.

"That's not what I meant, Hazelnut."

"I know," I smile cheekily.

"Hazel," he groans. "I hate surprises."

"Trust me, Dean, this day will greatly change your outlook on them."

"Uh huh, if you say so."

"I _do_ say so. An' I know everything."

"Oh, really?" he asks playfully.

"Really," I nod, making him smile. The waitress brings our food, and I roll my eyes at the expected pigish eating habits my man has.

"What?" he shrugs. "It's good."

"You're lucky it's your birthday, Winchester."

* * *

><p>"What- A <em>Star Trek<em> movie marathon? How did you know?"

"Sam told me all about your little incorrect obsession," I smile as he beams at me. "You have the best girlfriend ever."

"Yeah, I do!" he kisses me, then pulls me towards the cinema's doors. "C'mon, I wanna make sure we get good seats!"

* * *

><p>"Let me see if I got this straight," Dean says, driving to our final destination. "The planet Vulcan doesn't look like that."<p>

"Nope," I tell him, sipping on our shared milkshake. A _pie_ milkshake. Thanks a lot, Shari's.

"Klingons aren't real."

"Uh-uh."

"And humans don't reach active space travel until when?"

"Spoilers, Dean."

"Dammit."

"Take a left an' pull into that parkin' lot," I order, and he does what I say.

"What the hell is _this_ place, Hazelnut?"

"The end to your wonderful day. Happy birthday, baby," I lean over and snog him senseless, then hop out of the car. I crook my finger and he climbs out eagerly, so I lead him to the motel room I booked late yesterday evening (technically, if you look at the clock, two days ago).

The motel is nice, with salt lines and devil's traps already laid in place (I'm awesome, just saying, wink wink). I mean actually _nice_. King-size bed in the middle, and the decorating isn't bad, either. And an awesome bathroom and shower. And the bed is soft (perfect for what I have planned), the sheets high-quality and plushy.

Dean's eyes instantly go to the box of condoms and bottle of lube on the nightstand, widening almost comically.

"Hazel, you sure?"

***Lemon alert!***

"Trust me, Winchester, I don't think I've ever been more sure of anythin'," I say in a breathless voice, my hands moving down his chest to shrug off his jacket. He grabs my hands and places them to my sides, then pulls off my own jacket and shirt. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I latch my lips onto his, and he picks me up, his hands under my ass and I wrap my legs around his torso and my arms around his neck. He moans into my mouth and carries me to the bed.

"You're wearing far too many clothes," he moans into my mouth.

"Mmm, you're one to talk," I fire right back.

It seems like within seconds, I'm in my brassiere and knickers, and Dean's in his boxers- the farthest we've ever gone. He looks at me once more, his hands on the clasp of my bra, and I nod my assent. He unhooks the nude-coloured material and slides the straps off my arms.

"Wow," he breathes. I move to cross my arms over my chest, but he stops me by taking each wrist in his vise-like grip. "You're beautiful." I huff a sigh of disbelief. "No, Hazel, seriously. You're beautiful." And to prove it, he slowly kisses my body, starting at my jaw and leading down to my right breast before taking it into his mouth. I moan, quite loudly, as he sucks and nips at the flesh. Once he's satisfied with that one, he moves onto the other. "Music to my ears," he croons seductively at my breathy gasps. Dean ghosts his fingers down my sides until he reaches my knickers, subtly asking for permission. I lift my hips in response, and he slides them off. "Beautiful," he says again, slipping his own boxers off and reaching for one of the condoms in the box of sixteen.

My eyes bug out at the size of him.

"Will that-"

"Don't worry," he chuckles softly. "You'll stretch."

And then he's on top of me again, both of us stark-naked, and then he's pushing in. It hurts at first, that sense of fullness, so he stops. But then, at my mark, he starts up again.

And it is pure bliss, pure ecstasy. And I love it.

* * *

><p><strong>*End lemon alert:)*<strong>

That was _the_ best night ever. Albeit, I'm a little sore, but who wouldn't be? It was my first time, and we used _three_ condoms.

Sex _might_ just be my new favourite thing.

All of a sudden, Dean gasps awake.

"What's the matter, babe? Nightmare? Or are you reliving last night?" I ask flirtatiously.

"No, Cas just came to me in a dream," he says. "Last night, though? One of the best nights I've ever had. How sore are you?"

"S'not too bad. Did you just say somethin' about Cassie?"

"Yeah, we gotta meet him somewhere, he said."

"Okay. I'm gonna take a shower," I say, peeling the sheets off and hop off the bed. That thing must be on risers or something.

"Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave, baby," he calls.

"Then don't see me go. Come help me with my back," I wink, and I've never seen him move so fast from a warm bed.

* * *

><p>"Well, what'd he say, Dean? What was so important?" Sam asks in the warehouse Cassie told Dean to go to.<p>

"If I knew, would I be here?" he retorts.

"Children, let's play nice," I quip, shining my own torch around. I follow them up a staircase into another room. "What the ruddy hell?" I gasp at the sight.

"It looks like a bomb went off," Sam states the obvious.

"What do you think 'appened?"

"There was a fight here," Dean answers confidently.

"Between who?" Sam asks.

The electricity crackles again and I shine my light around the wreckage. I can't even tell what this place used to be; there are pieces everywhere.

"Hey, check it out," Dean calls, and I walk over to where he's pointing with his flashlight. "Look familiar?"

"Yeah, it does," Sammy admits.

"Anna used something like that to wish the angels back to the cornfield."

"So, what? Cas was fighting angels?"

"I don't know."

"I hope not," I speak up, then look around some more.

"Sam, Hazel," Dean calls in a serious tone, and my head snaps up immediately to where he's looking.

"Cassie!" I shout, tearing towards my old friend. "Cassie?"

"Cas! Hey, Cas!" Sam calls his name.

The man gasps awake. "What's-what's going on?" he asks, sitting up with Dean's help.

"Just take it easy. Take it easy," Dean says.

"Cas, you okay?" Sam asks.

"That's not Cassie," I frown, crossing my arms.

"S-she's right," the man stutters, standing. "I'm not Castiel. It's me."

"Who's 'me'?" Sam demands.

"Jimmy," the man answers. "My name's Jimmy."

"Hullo, Jimmy. M'Hazel," I smile, holding out my hand, which he shakes.

"I-I know. Castiel thinks very highly of you, Hazel."

"Where the hell is Castiel?" Dean asks, not trusting Jimmy one bit.

"He's gone," Jimmy shakes his head.

* * *

><p>"Mmm," Jimmy moans, devouring his second burger.<p>

"Mind slowin' down? You're gonna give me angina," Dean complains.

"Knock it off," I smack his arm. "Angels don't need to eat, so who knows when the last time he did?"

"Months," Jimmy agrees.

"What the hell happened back there?" Sam asks. "It looked like an angel battle royale."

"All I remember is there was a flash of light, and I, uh... I-I woke up, and I was just, you know, like, me again."

"So, what, Cas just ditched out of your meatsuit?" Dean questions.

"I really don't know."

"You remember anything about being possessed?" Sam asks. "Anything at all?"

"Yeah, bits and pieces," Jimmy admits. "I mean, angel inside of you- it's kind of like being chained to a comet."

"Well, that doesn't sound like much fun," Dean says bluntly.

"Understatement."

"Cassie said he wanted to tell Dean somethin'. D'ya know what it was?" I ask.

"Sorry," he shakes his head.

"Come on, what _do_ you know?" Dean questions.

"My name is Jimmy Novak," he answers after a second of thought. "I'm from Pontiac, Illinois. And I have a family. A wife, Amy, and a daughter, Claire."

* * *

><p>"So, what do we do?"<p>

"What do you mean? The guy's got a family. We buy him a bus ticket, send him home."

"Dean, we can't do that," I say sadly.

"Yeah, Dean, he's the only lead we got," Sam agrees.

"Oi, tha's not what I meant."

"He doesn't know anything," Dean protests.

"Are you one-hundred percent about that?" Sam retorts.

"You think he's lying?" Dean glances back to the window of the motel room, Jimmy's shadow pacing back and forth. "What, you wanna go Guantanamo on the guy?"

"Dean, maybe _he_ doesn't even know what he knows."

"Huh?" he asks, confused.

"I say at least we get him to Bobby's. Maybe all he needs is-is hypnosis or a p-psychic, or, hell, maybe Cas will just drop back into him."

"I don't know, man."

"Dean, back there, that was angel-on-angel violence. Now, I don't know what's going on, but it's big, and we can't just let the only lead we've got just skip out. What?" he adds when Dean shakes his head.

"Remember when our job was helping people; like, getting them back to their family?"

"You think I don't wanna help him? I'm just being realistic. I mean, hell, we're doing him a favour."

"How?"

"Dean, if _we_ want to question the guy, you can damn well bet the demons do, too."

"Now _that's_ the point I was thinkin'," I tell them. "He's a vessel, they'll wanna see how he works. Plus, the angels might wanna interrogate 'im, too."

"Well, super," Dean says sarcastically. "Who wants to tell him that?"

"I got it," I sigh, walking into the motel room and shutting the door behind me. "Hey, Jimmy," I smile warmly. He stops pacing to look at me.

"Can I go home now?" he nearly pleads, and it makes my hearts hurt to have to deny him.

"You can't go home," my smile drops to a look of seriousness. "M'sorry."

"What the hell are you talking about, 'I can't go home'?"

"Well, y'see, the thing is, you're a vessel for an angel. An' those are hard to come by. So, you might as well be wearin' a big blinkin' sign."

"What? For who?" he scoffs.

"Demons."

"That's crazy, Hazel, what would they want with me?"

"T'see how you tick, how you work. Maybe you'll get lucky an' they'll kill ya before dissectin' ya. Trust me, vivisection hurts. Or, they might want information."

"I don't know anything!" he stresses again.

"I know," I say patiently.

"Look, I am done, okay? With demons, angels, all of it. I just want to go home!"

"Believe me, I understand-"

"No, I don't think that you _do_ understand! I've been shot and stabbed and healed, and my body's been dragged all over the Earth. By some miracle, I'm out, and I am done. I've given enough, okay?"

I remain silent while he goes on his tirade.

"All m'sayin', until we figure this out, safest place for you is with us."

"How long?"

"Don't know," I answer honestly. "M'sorry." I don't protest when he brushes by me and heads out the door; I follow him.

"Hey, where you going?" Sam moves to stop him.

"Sam, stop!" I order, and he does. "You wanna put Amelia and Claire in danger, Jimmy?" I call, and he freezes, his back still to me. "'Cause tha's what'll 'appen if you try to go to 'em! You'll lead the demons an' angels _right_ to 'em!"

"So, what," he turns to face me, "now I'm a prisoner?"

"Look, I know how it feels, Jimmy Novak," I tell him. "I've been on the other side of this predicament. Okay, my dad sent my mum away when I was a little girl; not because he didn't love her, but to keep all of us safe. She never saw her son again, an' we all have to live with the fact tha' he died because of me- which is a story for a different time. I know it sucks, an' I know s'hard, but sometimes we have to make the tough decisions. Now, will you please come back inside?"

"Y-you mean that?" he asks hesitantly.

"I do," I nod once. "Please. Come back inside. S'safer there... Please," I say one more time.

Dejectedly, he walks back into the motel room and shuts the door.

"Hazel, you serious?" Dean asks.

"Every word," I confirm, then follow Jimmy's lead into the room, ready to stay up all night if necessary to keep watch.

* * *

><p>Damn you, Dean Winchester, for being incredibly handsome and persuasive. I was determined to stay up and keep watch, but this man has gotten me in the habit of one or two hours of sleep every night instead of three or four every other. Not to mention what happened at the Shadow Proclamation; thanks to that, I've been sleeping a hell of a lot more. He beckoned me to the bed, secretly wanting to cuddle methinks, and I just couldn't resist. That man claims to have no puppy dog eyes, but that pout of his might just melt me every time. I inadvertently fell asleep, only for us to be awoken by Sam two hours later.<p>

"Dean, Hazel, get up," he orders, throwing a pillow at both of us. Dean snaps up, knife from under his pillow in his hand.

"Dammit, Sam, what the hell?" Dean gripes. "I almost stabbed you."

"I'm glad it was almost. Get dressed or something."

"Why?"

"Jimmy's gone."

I push Dean into the bathroom and tell him to take a shower before he can murder his brother.

"What 'appened?" I ask calmly as I pull my t-shirt off, hiding my wince as I twinge my still-sore back, and grab a cleaner violet coloured t-shirt and my favourite jeans.

"I stepped out for a soda and he was just gone," he says, throwing gear into his bag. "Dean!" he calls about five minutes later. "Would you hurry up?"

Dean steps out, brushing his teeth and chuckling at Sam.

"Sorry, uh, this is funny to you?" Sam snaps at him.

"Mr. Big Bad Prison Guard, and Jimmy McMook gives you the slip?" he teases. "Yeah, it's pretty funny. What were you doin', anyway?"

"I was getting a Coke."

"Was it a _refreshing_ Coke?"

"Can we just go, please?"

"Children!" I interrupt their bickering. "Both of you just calm down, okay? I'll go to Pontiac, Illinois, where his wife and kid live, an' keep watch until he shows up."

"You sure he's gonna go there?" Dean asks.

"Damn sure. S'exactly what my mum did when she came back. I'll meet you there, yeah?"

"Hazel," he stops me, reaching into his bag for a gun. "Be careful." I take the gun he presses into my hand and tuck it into the back of my jeans.

"I will," I swear.

And, without waiting for a response, I disappear from their sight.

* * *

><p>I've got to be calm and smooth when I find them. Jimmy'll probably be pissed at me, but that's okay. I contemplate on my approach as I walk through the snowy town searching for a phone book. If I could find a payphone with a phone book, I can look up the Novaks and triangulate their home phone number by calling Tosh. It takes me awhile, but I do eventually find a little glass telephone booth. Quickly skimming through the yellow pages, I find an <em>A. Novak<em> with a ten digit number next to it. So I ring Tosh.

"Hey, Toshie, need you to triangulate an American phone number for me. Please?"

_"Of course. It'll take me a minute, I'm busy helping the team with a mission."_

"No rush, Tosh. What kinda mission?"

She fills me in while sending the location to my vortex manipulator.

"Bless you, Toshiko. We'll have to get together soon. Good luck with your mission." I hang up my phone and get ready to walk the ten miles to the Novak residence; my manipulator's damn child lock won't let me go anywhere for hours unless I know the override code. Thank you, Mother, for adding that little feature.

* * *

><p><em>This is it<em>, I think, looking at the house. Jimmy's gonna hate me, but I don't care. I hit the doorbell three times and wait. A little girl opens the door and I smile.

"Hullo, Claire. My name is Hazel an' I'm a friend of your dad's. May I come in?" I smile, and she holds the door open wider for me to pass through.

"Hazel?"

"I warned you, Jimmy Novak," I frown at him. "Hullo, Amelia. I've heard a lot about you."

"Claire, come here," she orders her daughter, standing and hiding the girl behind her.

"_I'm_ not here to hurt you."

"W-what do you mean, 'you warned him'?"

"I'm here to protect you, Amelia. But you have to trust me."

"Hazel, I told you I was done," Jimmy says.

"An' _I_ warned you. Now I've to clean up your mess." The doorbell rings again. "Don't answer that," I order, but Amelia ignores me and goes anyway.

"Hey, Roger," she greets.

"Hey, Ames. How you doing?" he asks.

"Good."

"Am I crazy, or did I just see your husband wander in about half an hour ago?"

"Yeah, uh, you did. But, Roger, now's not a good time-"

I hate it when humans don't listen to me. Jimmy stands to greet the man.

"Hey," he says, embracing Roger.

"Son of a bitch, what the hell happened to you?"

"Uh, long story, but it's over."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Can I talk to you?" Roger asks, and alarm bells go off in my head.

"Claire, I want you to stay away from that Roger. Can you do that for me?" I ask, and she nods.

"Look," Amelia walks back in. "I don't know who the hell you are, but I want you to stay away from my daughter and Jimmy."

"I am trying to protect you," I tell her again, but she doesn't listen. Oh well. Dean and Sam should be here in about a half-hour.

I try not to listen in to the conversation, but when Roger says, 'I'm gonna gut your daughter while you watch,' I walk in calmly, following Amelia bringing the men a beer.

"Here you go," she offers it to him. I take the beer bottle from her and break it over the demon's head.

"Run," I order. "Take your wife and daughter, hide, and lay out a line of salt. Go, Jimmy! He's a demon!"

"Roger is our friend!" Amelia protests. I pull my gun and aim it at her.

"Lady, I am getting sick of this! Do as I say!"

"Heh, the alien bitch is right," the demon rasps out, knocking me down and punching me. The gun is thrown about to the floor.

"Run!" I say again, kicking the man off me. Jimmy heeds my warning and pulls his wife and daughter away. I land a punch in before he throws me into the wall.

"I wonder what colour your blood is, alien bitch."

"Red with a gold tint," I snap, kicking him in the bollocks and reaching for my gun so I can pistol whip him. He grabs my hand and beats me to it, hitting me hard with the butt of the gun. I go down, and he kicks me in the stomach.

"Damn it!" I hear Jimmy swear.

"Hey, pal," the demon wearing Roger's meatsuit greets. "Told you I'd gut the bitch."

"Roger," Amelia gasps.

"Daddy," Claire breathes.

"Just let her go, okay?" Jimmy pleads.

"Now, me, _I_ would. But the missus, she has other ideas," Roger croons as a female demon turns Jimmy around and starts beating his face in, slamming him on the floor.

"Oh, my god," Amelia gasps. I press my fingers to my lips and motion for her to keep quiet, then sneak my way to the female demon and knock her off Jimmy as Dean finally shows up and slices Roger's neck. She tries to run, but Sam takes her in his mental grasp.

"Go!" he orders. "Get them out of here!"

"Go, go!" Dean leads them out. I follow, thinking that Sam has it under control and wanting to guard the Novaks as best I can.

"You're late," I pant, leaning against the house.

"My bad, princess," he flirts, and I smile. "How bad are you?"

"Bruised ribs; not bad, I'll be fine. Go help Sam," I order the older Winchester. "What did I just tell you? Go on!" He finally does what I say and heads inside.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**Please review!**


	17. Appearances pt 2

**Happy New Year! It's still Jan. 1st for me (23:13 but shush), so here's your present!;)**

**I own nothing:( JK I own Hazel. And Peter. But nothing else:/  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Seventeen: Appearances part two<span>

"You were right," Jimmy admits in a parking garage outside Pontiac.

"Sorry we were," Dean says.

"But I'm telling you- I don't know anything."

"I don't think they're inclined to believe you."

"I don't think they _care_," I add.

"Exactly. Even if they did, you're a vessel," Sam tells him. "They're still gonna know what makes you tick."

"Which means vivisection... if they're feeling generous," Dean points out.

"Ooh, that hurts," I moan.

"You've been vivisected?" Dean asks, looking straight at me.

"Um, long story," I admit, quickly blowing it off.

"I'm gonna tell you once again: you're putting your family in danger," Sam nails it in. You _have_ to come with us."

"I can get UNIT surveillance on them. An added layer of protection. They _will_ protect them; Noah owes me a favour."

"How long?" he asks. "And don't give me that 'cross that bridge when we get to it' crap."

"Don't you get it?" Sam snaps. "Forever. The demons will never stop. You can _never_ be with your family. So, you either get as far away from them as possible or you put a bullet in your head, and that's how you keep your family safe, but there's no getting out and there's no going home."

"Well, don't sugarcoat it, Sam."

"I'm just telling him the truth, Dean. Someone _has_ to. I'm going to find him a car."

And with that, Sam walks off in another direction, and Jimmy heads toward his family in the back seat of the Impala.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean checks, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"The demon forcibly threw me about into a wall; I think he bruised my ribs. They're not broken, though; I'd feel it," I inform him, wrapping my own arms around his neck. "I'm okay."

"Mind if I check?"

"You're going to, anyway, you overgrown worrywart," I name-call fondly. "Do what you want, I've got to make a call."

"Hey, how does 'Noah' or whoever owe you a favour?" he asks curiously, probing my ribs cautiously.

"Believe me or not, but I can be _very_ scary, Winchester," I wink, then dial the UNIT number and request his extension number. "Noah, it's Hazel. I've called to collect that favour you owe me. No, no, no, don't hang up. Don't you try to weasel out of it, either. You _know_ you owe me for that whole shitstorm in London. Now, do I need to ask you in person or are you going to do what I say? Good. I need surveillance on an Amelia and Claire Novak. Pontiac, Illinois, the States. What do you man, you can't do it? Need I remind you that I have Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart on speed dial? I would hate to involve 'im an' have you lose your job. You know what UNIT does to fired employees. I don't care if you don't like me, now _do it_." And with that, I hang up the mobile and jam the device in my pocket. "Dad's right, I _am_ too much like Mum," I laugh.

"That... was _extremely_ hot," Dean says wantonly, eying my body up and down.

"Oh, so you _like_ authoritative Hazel, eh?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, then," I smile up at him. "Stay here for a moment. I have to give somethin' to Claire."

"What?"

"Don't ask questions!" I chuckle, rummaging through his pockets for his keys. I skip over to the sleek black car, unlock the trunk, and commence to dig through my duffel until I find what I need. "Claire, sweetheart, I've a present for you. Come here an' you can 'ave it."

"It's okay," her father tells the girl. "Hazel won't hurt you." She climbs out of the car and stands in front of me.

"This," I gently pull her wrist out and tie the yarn band around it, "is a _very_ special bracelet. You could even say it's magic. If you get into _any_ trouble that you can't get out of -an' I'm talkin' dangerous situations, here, not your mum tearin' you a new one for not doin' your homework-" she laughs at that, "you press the little button on this red bead, see? An' it'll send a signal to my magic wrist strap, tellin' me where you are. An' I'll come save you from the monsters. But _only_ in emergencies, okay?"

"Okay," she nods shyly. "Thank you, Hazel."

"You are _very_ welcome, sweetheart."

"Hey... can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why are you helping us?"

"Well, that is a very good question, Claire," I smile, bending down to her level to look her in the eye. "Tha's what I'm good at. I like helpin' people, I like the good feelings I get afterwards. S'like... s'like when you help your mum. Your mum is really happy when you help her out, innit she?" I ask, and she nods. I glance over to the car and see Jimmy and Amelia talking. She's crying, and he's trying to reason with her. And then they hug, and I smile. "Why don't you go over to your mum an' dad now, yeah? An' remember what I said about that bracelet. Our little secret, eh?"

"Okay," she smiles. "Thank you, Hazel."

"You're welcome, Claire," I smile as she walks over to her parents and they embrace her.

"Sam's on his way with a car," Dean appears behind me, and I startle; not enough to him to notice, though.

"Good," I say, hearing the vehicle rumble on its way. "I wish we didn't 'ave to do this."

"You and me both, princess," he admits, throwing an arm around my shoulder.

"Ooh, I kinda like that. You can keep calling me that."

"I don't need your permission to call you things."

"Yes, you do," I argue.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you actually do," I insist playfully, sticking my tongue out at him as Sam pulls up with a yellow car.

"Okay, so, uh," he says awkwardly, climbing out of the car and leaving the driver's door open. "Here's your car."

"Take care of your mom, okay, bub?" Jimmy says to his daughter, embracing her. I climb into the Impala in the back seat (dammit, I like front seat) next to him. Dean starts the car and we pull away, leaving Claire and Amelia standing in our wake.

* * *

><p>"What the hell happened back there?" Dean asks his brother as Jimmy sleeps.<p>

"What?"

"You practically fainted trying to gank a demon."

"Okay, I didn't _faint_. I got a little dizzy," Sam clarifies defensively.

"Well, you can call it whatever you want. Point is, you used to be strong enough to kill Alastair. Now you can't even kill stunt demon number three?"

"What do you want me to say about it, Dean?

"For starters, what's going on with your mojo? I mean, it's yo-yo'ing all over the place. Now, I'm not trying to pick a fight here, okay? I just- y-you're scaring me, man."

"I'm scaring _myself_."

Sam's mobile goes off as my vortex manipulator beeps.

"Shh!" I shush the device, flipping the protective leather flap open and tapping on it. "Guys, Claire set off the bracelet I gave her."

"So what, what does that mean, Hazel?" Dean asks as Sam passes the phone off to a now-awake Jimmy Novak.

"Nothin' good."

"Oh, my god," Jimmy gasps.

"What?" Dean asks again.

"I-I-I gave Claire a bracelet I had in my duffel -got tons of them- an' told her to set it off if somethin' bad 'appened," I explain frantically. "I didn't think this whole mess was over quick like that. Sorry, Jimmy."

"Amelia is possessed, and it said to come alone," he says.

"Great, you can come alone and meet me there," I pitch, mind set, and programming my wrist strap.

"Hazel, no, wait-"

"Hazel, it's a trap-"

But I'm already gone. Sorry, boys.

* * *

><p>"Anyone else wanna carve up the alien bitch?" I call mockingly, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Might have been a bad idea, me coming alone, but I'd rather me be cut up then the child. Claire's just a little kid. A <em>brave<em> little kit, albeit cowering in her own chair. "Lot of bloomin' _cowards_, you are! Only way to sink into me is when I'm tied down, eh?" I get sliced in the face for that, blood immediately streaming from the line on my cheekbone, and I swear. "Fuck!" I draw out the word. "Thanks for that!"

"Teaching my daughter swear words?" not-Amelia laughs.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus-_" I say before I'm backhanded again.

"I will _gag_ you if you don't keep your mouth shut," she threatens, tipping my chair so it's on the back two legs. I spit blood on her face, and she shoves the chair completely over; landing hard on my already-broken arm, I forcibly bite back the scream of pain.

She ends up gagging me with part of my shirt, if you were wondering. My favourite shirt, she ruined. What a bitch.

"You know the good thing about you being an abomination, mutt?" she cackles, pulling the chair back up and driving the blade through my flesh again. She yanks my head back by my hair and cuts from the bottom of my chin down my neck to my collarbone. I groan through the cloth which is impairing any coherent speech. "Your blood reproduces _so_ fast! Your accelerated healing kicking in and doing nothing for you; it's _hilarious_!"

I cry out as she slices me again on the other side of my neck, narrowly avoiding my main arteries.

_I hope you can read my mind, you fuckin' bitch, because m'boyfriend's gonna kick your arse an' send you back to Hell. If you're lucky.  
><em>

Okay, in hindsight, I knew it was a bad idea. I'm too damn impulsive, and I promised that little girl that if she needed me I would come. It was like they knew I _was_ coming, almost. As soon as I got here, one of them grabbed me while the other knocked me out with their hands. Hell of a goose egg, let me tell you. I woke tied in a chair, and the bitch wearing Amelia starting carving into me with a box cutter, leaving Claire to watch. I told her to keep her eyes shut, but I think she peeked.

"Hi, honey. You're home," not-Amelia croons all of a sudden. I snap my head up, and meet Jimmy's eyes.

"Listen, I'm–I'm begging you here. You d-do whatever you want with me, but my wife and daughter, they're just–they're not a part of this," he begs, looking back at Amelia. I drop my head back down, faintly glowing to try to heal myself. I see a healing coma in my future; goddammit.

"Oh, they're a big part of this, Jimmy. And P.S., you should've come alone."

"I _am_ alone."

"Oh, you're such a liar. Like I didn't think you'd bring Heckle and Jeckle, hmm?"

"Yeah, nice plan, Dean," I hear Sam fume at his brother.

"Yeah, well, nobody bats a thousand. Oh, son of a- Hazel! Hazel!" Dean calls my name frantically, and I lift my head to meet his eyes. "You okay?"

I glare at him weakly.

"Stupid question," he admits. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

I nod, trusting that he'll keep his word. He's never let me down before, and he isn't about to stop now, I'm sure.

"Ah, young love," the demon sighs happily, then turns her tone biting. "I hate it. Got the knife?" One of the demons holding Sam raises it to show her. "And you know what else is funny, besides the puppy love shit?"

"You wearing a soccer mom?" Dean retorts.

"Is I was actually bummed to get this detail. Picking up an empty vessel? Sort of like a milk run. Now look who landed in my lap."

"Yeah, well, you got us, okay? Let these people go," Sam orders.

"Oh, Sam. It's easy to act chivalrous when your Wonder Girl powers aren't working, huh? Now for the punch line: everybody dies."

She shoots Jimmy in the stomach, and he falls.

"Waste little orphan Annie," she orders. "And leave the mutt. Hopefully she'll bleed out on her own." Then she walks away.

The demon walks towards Claire, stopping to kick one of my chair legs and I bite back a groan of pain. Then he proceeds to walk back to the little girl tied to the chair, and bends down to pick up a pipe. Before he can take her head off, she grabs the pipe and presses her hand to the demon's forehead, killing him. Then Dean breaks away from the demon holding him, and Sam does the same. Well, they try to. Dean ends up being thrown into a great big metal tank, and Claire burns through the ropes by looking at them.

Wait. That's not Claire. My head is a little fuzzy from the blood loss, but I have it in me to remember that bloodlines are key in angelic vessels. Since Claire is of the same bloodline as Jimmy, Castiel can use her as a vessel. So, it's not Claire, but Castiel. Right?

My head hurts. Maybe if I close my eyes for just a moment...

"Hazel! Stay awake!" Dean snaps at me before getting punched in the face.

I'm just so tired, Winchester. I want to sleep.

Castiel kills another demon, and Dean rushes to me.

"You're gonna be okay, Hazelnut, just stay awake," he pleads with me, untying my gag and throwing it to the side.

"M'wake," I slur.

"Yeah? Then open your eyes and look at me."

"S'lot bett'r th'n it looks, y'big baby."

"Hell, you can insult me all you want, princess," he says, frantically cutting me loose.

"M'g'nna 'memb'r tha'," I assure him. "Wha's S'm doin'?"

He glances over at Sam and his movements stop.

"Dean," I try to say as clear as I can. "Dean!"

"Amy, you okay?" he calls, turning back to me.

"Of course we keep our promises," I hear Cassie say in Claire's voice. "Of course you have our gratitude. You served us well. Your work is done. It's time to go home now- your _real_ home. You'll rest forever in the fields of the Lord."

"No," Jimmy says.

"Rest now, Jimmy."

"No. Claire."

"She's with me now."

"Sam! Quit standing there and help me! We gotta get something around her arms and neck, try to stop some of the bleeding," Dean snaps at his brother.

"She's chosen," Cassie states. "It's in her blood, as it was in yours."

"Please, Castiel," Jimmy begs. "I mean, just-just take _me._ Take _me_, please."

"I want to make sure you understand. You won't die, or age."

"Amy, you got any medical training?" Sam calls.

"N-no. Sorry," she stutters. "O-oh, my god, what did I do?"

"Hey, it's not your fault," he says, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around my broken arm. I hiss in pain. "Sorry, sorry."

"If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred," Cas drives it in, "a _thousand_ more like it."

"Doesn't matter," Jimmy struggles out. "You take _me_. Just take _me_."

"C-Cassie!" I call, and the girl's head snaps towards me. "S'just a kid. Y'can't do tha'. Y'can't-can't k-keep 'er."

"Hazel-"

"L'b'fine, Dean," I cut off his protests.

"Please," Jimmy says again.

"As you wish," Castiel says, and the room is filled with a bright light. I close my eyes.

"Hey, Cas!" Dean shouts. "Cas, you gotta help her, man! She's bleeding out!"

"M'fine," I sigh.

"Open your eyes, dammit! Castiel! Do something!"

"J-just g-get me out o-of here, an' t'somewhere safe, an' I c'n heal m'self," I say in between coughing up blood. "N'don' yell a'me."

My eyes close involuntarily, despite Dean's shouting at me not to, and I fall into a healing coma.

* * *

><p><em>"Sam and I, we don't know what to do, River," Dean says, well-concealed fear in his voice. "We stitched her up, and bandaged and wrapped everything, but she just won't wake up. It's been two days."<br>_

_"__That's okay," she reassures the boys quickly. "__That's good, actually. Lyra and her brother have this trick: instead of using up a regeneration -which, for her, is extremely painful-, she can involuntarily put herself into something we've named a 'healing coma'," she explains._

_"What's that?"_

_"Dean," Sam says patiently. "River can't explain if you keep interrupting her."_

_"It's okay, Sam," she waves off. "He loves her, and is worried about her. Simple as that."_

_"I'm sorry, what?"_

_"Dean, Dean, Dean," she laughs. "I may be a psychopath, but I know _love_ when I see it. Even_ if_ you don't realize it, yet. What was I saying? Ah, yes, healing comas. Based on the damage she sustained, she should wake up in, say, three days? Four? She'll probably be a bit sore, a little pissed, and bitchy. I say that with all the love possible! But, honestly, she_ hates_ being injured. Believe it or not, Lyra's very independent. Oh, the stories I could tell! But, honestly, she'll be fine. Cross my heart."_

_"Uh, earlier, she mentioned something about vivisection," Sam says cautiously, wanting answers but not sure how to go about it.  
><em>

_She gasps in surprise. "She actually mentioned that?"_

_"Well, actually, we were talking about it during the case, and she just said it was a long story. She wouldn't elaborate," Dean says, sitting next to the bed and grabbing his girlfriend's hand and intertwining their fingers._

_"There's an organization called UNIT- stands for United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. What they don't know about, they experiment on. And their field? _Strictly_ aliens. Now, from what I've been told, the British government has shut their experimentation programme down, or are trying to, at least."_

_"What's UNIT got to do with it?" Sam asks._

_"They didn't realize the Doctor had a daughter," she says, and Dean draws a sharp breath, instantly connecting the dots. "If they had, well, they wouldn't have dared touch her."  
><em>

_"I have to go," he states abruptly, and the motel room door slams shut._

_"Oops," she says sheepishly. "Probably shouldn't have said that. Should I go after him?"_

_"He's either going to shoot something or drive around for a little while. Probably stumble back in the morning drunk."_

_"And that's, what, usual behaviour?"_

_"Unfortunately," Sam admits._

_"Oh, my Lyra Marie, what _have_ you gotten yourself into?"_

_"She's good for him," he defends his brother._

_"She has that affect on people," she smiles warmly. "An' I know she can take care of herself. It's just that she doesn't _think _sometimes before she acts; she just _does_."_

_"Yeah, that's what got her into this mess."_

_Then it's quiet, and the mother brushes her daughter's hair from her sleeping face._

* * *

><p><em>"Care-bear," he draws out the pet name. "Where are you?"<br>_

_"Nowhere!" the little brunette girl giggles, darting through the forest._

_"I see you!" he laughs, picking up his pace, and she screams excitedly._

_"You can't catch me!" she taunts._

_"Oh, yes, I can!"_

_"No!"_

_"Gotcha!" he growls playfully, grabbing her and hoisting her over his shoulder._

_"No!" she laughs as he carries her through the forest. "Let me go! Leo!"_

_"C'mon, Care-bear, Mum said it's time for lunch!"_

_"Let me _down_, you overgrown _lumberjack_!"_

_"'Lumberjack'?"_

_"It seemed fitting," she giggles, and stops fighting her older brother. "We're in a forest, you're tall-"_

_"And a toothpick," he laughs. "What do you want for lunch, fun size? I think Mum's making grilled cheese and tomato soup."_

_"And chips?"_

_"When has Mum ever _not_ made chips?"  
><em>

_"Go faster!" she orders, and he laughs again. "Faster, faster, faster! Faster, Leo!"  
><em>

_He situates her so he's giving her a piggyback ride, and then he does as she wishes._

* * *

><p><em>"Peter," she tries it on her tongue. "Peter. Peter!"<br>_

_"Do you like it, you nut, or are you going to continue saying it in silly voices?" he playfully shoves his little sister.  
><em>

_She sticks her tongue out at him._

_"I like it, you meanie," she decides. "When do I get to pick _my_ name?"  
><em>

_"When you're older, you'll know when," he says wisely.  
><em>

_"You're not much older than me," she pouts._

_"You don't know stuff," he jokes._

_"Yes, I do," she retorts, crossing her arms. "Whatever, _Peter_. If you're gonna be a doorknob, I'm going out."  
><em>

_"You can't go by yourself! You look like a ten year old! Let me go with you," he catches up with her trying to leave the TARDIS. "Mum, Dad! M'takin' Care-bear out!"_

_"Go find your Uncle Mickey!" Rose Tyler orders her two children, walking into the console room. "Don't wander by yourselves! Oh, Doctor, maybe we should go with them."_

_"Nonsense, Rose, they'll be fine on their own."_

_"Are you sure?" she frets over them, fussing over her daughter's sweater and her son's blonde hair.  
><em>

_"Bye, Mum!" her daughter calls, taking her older brother's hand and pulling him out the doors. "Let's go find Uncle Mickey the Idiot. Maybe he'll take us to the candy shop near Grandma Jackie's!"_

_"If we go straight to Grandma Jackie's, she'll _definitely_ take us," he suggests._

_"Let's go see them _both_!" she gasps excitedly, then yanks him down the street._

* * *

><p><em>"Hazel. Hazel, your mom told me not to rush you, but, I miss you, princess. C'mon, Hazelnut, please come back to me. Please wake up. Please."<br>_

_"You really like her, don't you, Dean?" his brother sneaks up on him kneeling by her bedside.  
><em>

_"Dammit, Sam you have _no_ idea. Seeing her like that in that warehouse-" He takes a shaky breath and drops his head on their intertwined hands. "Son of a fucking bitch, Sammy. I just don't know what to do."  
><em>

_"You heard River. Two more days. If she doesn't wake up by then, we'll call her, and she'll work her own mojo on her."_

_"Yeah, but what if it's too late by then?"_

_"Dean, you can't get all worked up about it. We _both_ heard what she said. I'm worried about her, too, believe me. But she'll be okay."  
><em>

_"She, uh, she seems to have carved a place for herself in our lives, huh?"_

_"Hell, you _let_ her in, too."_

_"I did," he admits. "I don't know, man, there's just something about her. I just- I d-I don't know."  
><em>

_Sam says nothing, but secretly knows that River was right. Dean has been changed since he met Hazel. She's anchored him, almost. She gives him as much shit as he gives her, and not only does she take it in stride, but she fires back in snappy retorts, keeping him on his toes. Hell, Sam doesn't think Dean has ever said a cruel or unkind word to her and actually meant it. He tries to push her away, but she doesn't let him. She's just... special, and that's all Sam can think to describe her._

* * *

><p><strong>TBC!<strong>

**Please review!**


	18. Trials pt 1

**Hello, my lovelies! How are things? Good, bad, fantastic, not-so-much?  
><strong>

**You probably don't care, but I recently took Windows off my laptop and put Linux on. Lubuntu. Works best for what I have, and it's pretty kick-ass! Only, I have pretty much no idea what I'm doing lol.:) oh well. I'll figure it out.**

**Supernatural episode **When the Levee Breaks**. I see three chapters left in your future for this story! Review and tell me of you want a sequel. I know **giddyfan** wants one!;)**

**Please review!**

**EDIT: there is a lemon and I forgot to mark it oops my bad its marked now okay okay bye**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eighteen: Trials part one<br>

Screaming.

Well, maybe that's not the appropriate word.

Shouting?

Calling for help?

Either way, it's not my voice making those sounds. It's a man's. It's- wait, hold on.

My head. Things don't quite make sense. Up is up and down is down; that's correct, at least. I'm on a bed? something soft and cozy. Warm. A blanket on top of me?

It feels like something is missing, but I'm not quite sure just what yet.

Maybe if I opened my eyes?

No. Too early for that. The dark is easier to be in right now. Opening my eyes would cause the light. And the light holds a whole slew of problems.

C'mon, brains, communicate with each other. Think. You know it holds problems, but what kind? It takes me a moment or two.

Apocalypse. That's what my boys are worried about. The Apocalypse coming. Seals breaking. How many until Lucifer is released? I do not remember. I _can_ not remember.

Dean. Oh, shit, Dean. That man has a guilt complex like no other. He probably blames himself for this whole shit storm, dammit.

Sam is the one screaming and banging on the panic room walls.

Panic room.

Bobby's?

Great, Bobby's gonna kill me, too. It was a stupid stunt I pulled, but I don't regret it. I am a woman of my word, and I made a promise

I decide to open my eyes. But deciding is different than doing. I also want to sleep, but I know that I don't _need_ to. I can be awake and functional if I wanted to. I _do_ want to. But, just like deciding, wanting is different than doing.

Wake up.

Wake up!

Wake _up_, Hazel!

Wake! Up!

My eyes snap open.

Bobby's house. My room. Light outside. Afternoon? Probably.

Great. Eyes are open. That was easy. Getting out of bed is a whole other story. Moving isn't so hard, except that every movement (no matter how slight) feels like pins and needles. No big deal. I can deal with it. If I move slowly. I sit up _very_ slowly, feeling to make sure what is still bad and what isn't.

Arm: bad. Still broken (barely), but someone splinted it for me. Hey, at least I can use both hands equally, so writing and shooting aren't a problem. Typing, maybe. Probably better either tomorrow or next day. I wiggle my fingers and it doesn't hurt.

Neck: not bad. Wounds almost healed. Tonight or tomorrow methinks.

Let's see, what else was worse? Most of the cuts have been healed. The thick ones are healed or almost healed. The ones on my face are gone, which is good. I decide to stand up and go to the bathroom, albeit a little shakily. I nearly fall about twice before I gather my bearings, gripping on the bathroom counter before I fall flat on my arse.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and I'm covered in bruises and cuts. I figured I was bad, but not _this_ bad. But I'm okay now.

I think.

I want my Dean.

With that decision, I make sure I'm squared away before walking out of the bathroom and down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. Dean's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking straight from the whiskey (is that really such a surprise), and Bobby's poured himself over some research books.

"Drinking straight from the bottle probably isn't the best idea in the world, Winchester," I inform him, a small smile on my face. He looks up at me, as if I'm not real.

"You're lucky I don't fill your ass with buckshot, kid," Bobby quips, eyes still glued to his books.

"I know," I admit softly. "I'd like to think that you never would, though. You love me too much?"

"Yeah, well, love hurts sometimes."

Sam's screaming picks up, and I wince at how loud it is.

"Dean," I call his name. "Why is Samster in the panic room, an' why is he screamin'?"

"Hazel," he says my name.

"Yeah?"

And then, faster than light, almost, he's holding me tight to him.

"I'm okay," I reassure him. "I'm okay."

"Oh, thank God."

"I thought you didn't believe in God."

I don't blame him when he shushes me. Instead, he holds me even tighter, clutching me to him and I'm completely okay with it.

What is this feeling I get whenever I am near him?

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Dean asks, waiting for me in my bedroom after I've taken a shower.<p>

"Fine," I tell him. "Turn around so I can get dressed."

"No."

"'No'?" I scoff. "Dean, get out."

"No."

"Dean. I want to get dressed. Get out."

"I want to see, Hazel."

"Dean-"

"Please," he says, looking into my eyes, and my irritation melts away.

"Dammit," I swear at him in Gallifreyan, drop my towel, and turn around so I don't have to look at him. I hear my bed creak as he stands, and his fingers run gently down the scars on my back.

"When-"

"I didn't tell you or Sam. I didn't want you to blame yourselves."

"That was-"

"It wasn't your fault," I say instantly. "If I wanted, I could've left you two there to die. But I couldn't."

"Why didn't they kill _you_?"

"If they did, my dad would've taken them down. He's quite terrifying; he took down one of Great Britain's Prime Minister's with just six words. An' m'mum- she once made a Dalek _beg_. Daleks don't beg, they just don't care."

He falls silent and traces the word 'mutt' that Marcus carved into my back.

"How did I not see these?"

"I wore somethin' called a shimmer device. It disguises, changes your appearance to what you want other people to see."

He doesn't know what to say after that.

"That demon did a number on you," he says eventually, tracing the fading bruises.

"Yeah," I agree softly.

"I'm sorry, Hazel."

"It's not your fault, Dean. And don't even think about saying it is, because I'll smack you."

"You're very violent for something so small," he jokes, and the moment is over. That's okay. I grab a bra and a pair of knickers and pull them on, ignoring the human in my bedroom. Then, I walk over to him and strip his t-shirt off and pull it on, along with a pair of my own jeans. "That-that was my shirt."

"Yes, it _was_."

"You think I'll ever get it back?"

"No," I smile, then straddle his lap and kiss him passionately. Then it's over as soon as it's begun, and I sneak downstairs with him following me.

"How long is this gonna go on?" Dean asks when Sam starts screaming yet again, pulling me onto his lap in Bobby's study.

"Here, let me look it up in my demon-detox manual. Oh wait. No one ever _wrote_ one," Bobby answers sarcastically. "No telling how long it'll take. Hell, or if Sam will even live through it."

"Bobby," I say patiently. "Being sarcastic is not helping the situation."

"Yeah, and when did you get so wise?"

"Oi, don't you attack me, Bobby Singer."

One of Bobby's many phone lines goes off, and he answers it. "Hello? Suck dirt and die, Rufus. You call me again, I'll kill you."

"What's up with Rufus?" Dean questions.

"_He_ knows," he says simply as the phone rings again. "I'm busy, you sumbitch."

I take the phone from him and hold it to my ear. "Hullo, Rufus, it's Hazel."

_"Hazel? You sound like shit, what the hell happened?"_

"S'a long story, not important."

_"Why's Bobby so pissed at me?"_

"You really need to ask that question? He's Bobby Singer, an' that should explain everything."

"Hey!" Bobby protests, and Rufus hears him and laughs.

_"So, I, uh, heard through the grapevine that the Winchesters have a fiery redhead scary lady huntin' with 'em. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"_

"Nosir?" I try.

_"You little liar,"_ Rufus laughs.

"Well, great, now you've got Bobby _and_ Dean giving me their bitch-faces," I giggle. "Thanks for that."

_"No problem."_

"We gotta wrap this up. Your bestest friend already threatened to fill my ass with buckshot, so, what d'ya got?"

_"_Bobby_ threatened to fill _your_ ass with buckshot? What did you do?"_

"I don't know! Must've found 'is secret stash or somethin'. Come now, spill. Hold on, I'll switch you to speaker."

_"Okay, fine, demanding redhead. Whatever. Listen. Just check the news, okay? In Key West, ten species went extinct. Alaska, fifteen man crew goes blind. New York, teacher kills sixty-six kids."_

"Seals?"

_"Exactly. All this in one day. And I looked them up, too. The seals are breaking, fast."_

"Great, Rufus, thanks. Now, I repeat, suck dirt and die." Bobby yanks the phone from me and hangs it up.

"Bye, Rufus," I say lamely.

"How many are left?" Dean asks.

"Who knows?" Bobby retorts. "Can't be many. Where the hell are your angel pals?"

"You tell _me_."

"Hazel?"

"No idea," I raise my hands in innocence. "Haven't heard from Cassie since- he hasn't talked to me or reached out."

"I'm just wondering..."

"What?" Dean asks.

"The apocalypse being nigh and all... is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't like this any more than you do, but Sam can kill demons. He's got a shot at stopping Armageddon."

"So what? Sacrifice Sam's life, his _soul_, for the greater good? Is that what you're saying? Times are bad, so let's use Sam as a nuclear warhead?" Dean snaps.

"Dean-"

"_What_, Hazel?"

"Don't you snap at me like that, Dean Winchester," I retort. "If you do, I will leave."

"I'm sorry, Hazel, it's just-" he apologizes immediately.

"Oi. I love Samster, too; don't you doubt that for a second."

"Look, I know you hate me for suggesting it. _I_ hate me for suggesting it. I love that boy like a son. All I'm saying is maybe he's here right now instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much," Bobby says. "And you're whipped, boy."

"Yeah. So I've been told," he waves it off, and I smile.

* * *

><p>"How long has he been out there screamin'?"<p>

"Over two hours," Bobby answers me.

"You think if I went out there an' asked 'im nicely, he'd take me to get Starbucks?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"You know that smile you use when you want something?"

"What?" I blow off, my voice high-pitched and light. He gives me a look, and I turn serious again. "Okay, yeah, I'll try that. Thanks, Bobby," I kiss his cheek and head out the back door.

I don't see Dean at first, but he's talking to _someone_. Maybe Cassie answered his shouted prayers? That's what I think.

That is, until I actually lay eyes on the two of them. Dean's cradling his hand angrily, and Cas is rubbing the side of his face.

"Dean. Sweetheart. What did you do?" I ask patiently.

"I punched a dick," he answers.

"He accused me of not doing anything to save you, Cara," Cas explains. "Good to see you, by the way."

"Well, not one-hundred percent _quite_ yet, but I should be good by tomorrow. An' Dean, there's nothin' he could've done for me. Angel powers don't work on me, m'not human enough. Too much Time Lord; throws _everythin'_ off."

"I don't care; I'm still pissed at him," my man fumes.

"Fine. Be pissed all you like; no one's stoppin' you," I tell him, then turn to Cassie. "That one is _such_ a handful," I whisper conspiratorially, and Cas cracks a small smile.

"I heard that," Dean crosses his arms and looks down at me.

"Nothin' I wouldn't say to your face, dear," I rest a hand on his upper arm and look back at my childhood friend. "Punishment? That why you were called back to Heaven, Cassie?"

"Yes," he admits. He's learned that hiding things from me is very bad. Okay, maybe I _do_ have a mean streak. Sue me.

"What were you going to tell Dean?"

"Nothing of import." Okay, maybe not _completely_.

"Do we need to be worried?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay," I shrug.

"'Okay'? That's it, you trust him just like that?" Dean accuses.

"Yes, Winchester, I actually _do_," I back up to glare at him. "I have known that creature for almost my whole life, and if I was in danger, he would _tell_ me, even if that meant him getting hurt for it. An' he has _proved_ tha'. So, _yes_, I trust him."

"I am... pleased, that you have so much faith in me, Cara," Cas says.

"Why wouldn't I have faith in you, Cassie? You've never given me a reason not to," I say simply.

"Alright, thank you, Mr and Miss Chick Flick. Is this moment over? Yes? Good."

Dean Winchester, everybody. Never change, sweets. Never change.

"Get to the reason you _really_ called me. It's about Sam, right?" Cas steers the conversation back.

"Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?" he asks.

"Possibly, yes. But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps."

"Drink more demon blood," I guess, and Cassie nods.

"Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change Sam forever," he agrees. "Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill. There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean."

"How?" I ask.

"We believe it's you, Dean, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it."

"Am I gonna like where this is going, Castiel?"

"Probably not," he admits.

"If I do this... Sammy doesn't have to?" Dean asks.

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way," Cassie answers.

"God, you're a dick these days."

"Dean," I warn, but all he does is walk a bit away from me. I let him think for a bit.

"Fine. I'm in."

That wasn't the conclusion I wanted him to reach.

"Dean, are you sure?" I check.

"You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?" Castiel asks.

"You wait just a damn minute, Cassie," I point at him, then walk over to Dean and wrap my arms around his waist. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He raises his hand carefully to my face, and I lean into it as he rubs the pad of his thumb up and down my cheekbone.

"I have to do this, Hazel," he says, and I nod.

"Okay," I whisper. "Okay."

"You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?" Cas repeats.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Say it," Cassie orders.

"I give myself over wholly to serve God... and you guys," he vows, breaking away from me to stand in front of the angel.

"You swear to follow _his_ will and _his_ word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own father's?"

"Yes, I swear. Now what?"

"Now you wait. And we call on you when it's time."

"Okay."

"Okay. Goodbye."

And then Cassie disappears in a fluttering of wings.

"Hazel," Dean calls.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"You hesitated," he accuses.

"I'm not mad at you, Dean," I try to reassure him. "You wanna know what I am?"

"What?" he asks cautiously, looking at me. I walk over to him and put his hands on my hips.

"I want you. What's the word for that?"

"Horny?" he suggests, cracking a smile.

"Horny! That's it! I'm horny!" I beam, and he laughs. "You know what we haven't done?"

"What?" he plays along.

"We haven't christened the back seat of your precious Impala," I hint, and he gets that gleam in his eye when he thinks about sex.

"I like the way you think. But, you, uh, sure you're up for that? I don't wanna hurt you anymore than you already are."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm fine. The only question I have for you is: are _you_ _up_ for that?"

"Oh, princess," he takes my hand and puts it on the bulging in his jeans. "I am _definitely_ up for the challenge."

***Lemon!***

"Fantastic," I wink, and he drags me off to the Impala. Picking me up, he lays me in the back seat and carefully leans over me, pulling off his shirt and shoving my jeans down my legs so I'm left in my bra and knickers. "Why am I always the one to lose clothes first?"

"Because," he says. I take his jacket and shirt off and rub my hands down the plains of his chest, then reach into his jeans and grab his, well, you know the word for it. Oh, you want me to say it? Fine. I take his cock into my hand. Happy? Anyway, he moans and unhooks my brassiere with excited hands.

"What is it with you and my breasts?" I moan as he takes one onto his mouth.

"Mmm, I'm a boob man," he says, and I chuckle breathlessly. After lavishing both of them, he kisses his way downward until he reaches my wet knickers, and peels them off.

"Dean, what're you- oh my goddess!" I screech as he swirls his tongue around my mound. He sucks on my clitoris and I come then and there, pleasure overflowing my body. He holds my hips down and laps up my come, tongue reaching into my depths. I help him roll on a condom and he enters me in one quick thrust, and I cry out softly.

"You okay?"

"Don't stop!" I reassure him, and he does just what I say, pounding into me at a slow pace, but I love every second of it. Soon, I'm meeting him thrust for thrust, and he warns me when he's about to come and picks up the pace.

I like his face when he comes, and I follow not far after he does.

And then sleep overtakes us, and I'm glad we had the decency to cover up with his leather jacket.

* * *

><p><strong>*no more lemon*<strong>

"You two were out pretty late," Bobby says when we stumble in the next morning. I say nothing and instead go straight for the coffee. "Weren't you wearing that yesterday, Hazel?"

"No comment," I say before taking a drink and burning my mouth. "Oh, dammit!" I gasp and tip my head under the cold water running from the faucet. "Why are you laughing at me, Dean Winchester; I just burned my bloody tongue! You cut that out!"

"I-I'm sorry, babe," he tries to stop and kisses the top of my head. "You wanna pour me some coffee?"

"Get your own, you meanie. Laughing at your girlfriend," I tsk and sit down at the kitchen table with a bagel in my hand.

"I'm sorry, Hazelnut. It's not funny. You're right." Then he kisses my cheek and pulls me into his lap.

"You are really handsy, Winchester."

"Hey! None of that sex stuff under my roof, you hear me?" Bobby interrupts. "And you treat that girl with _respect_, Dean Winchester. You are _damn_ lucky to have her."

"Yes, sir," he says, slightly scared.

"Damn straight."

"Bobby, quit scaring him; I like this one," I intervene and give Dean half my bagel, knowing my man was eying it earlier.

"Bobby! Dean! Hazel! Help! Hey! Hey! Guys! Guys! Help! Dean!" Sam screams again, and I close my eyes in pain. I feel so bad for him. I know that this is necessary from what Dean's told me, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"Okay, now correct me if I'm wrong, but you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch?" Bobby asks, and Dean glares at him. "I'm sorry. You prefer 'sucker'? After everything you said about them, _now_ you trust them?"

"Come on, give me a little credit, Bobby. I've never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from the planet Vulcan."

"Vulcan doesn't have shady politicians," I correct.

"Then why in the hell did you-"

"Because what other option do I have? It's either trust the angels or let Sammy trust a demon?" Dean snaps.

"I see your point."

"Hey, um, when did it get so quiet?" I question hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's a little too much nothing," Bobby agrees, and we dart downstairs to the panic room.

"Oh, my god," I gasp when Dean opens the little peephole-thing.

"What if he's faking?" he asks.

"You really think he would?" Bobby retorts.

"I think he'd do anything."

And then, by some invisible force, Sam's thrown into the wall.

"That ain't faking," Bobby decides, and the two men throw open the panic room door. I stay in the doorway and watch with bated breath as they grab Sam and carry him to the floor. Bobby pulls off his belt and shoves it into Sam's mouth so he doesn't accidentally bite his tongue off or something. "Hazel! Go get the cuffs and some fabric from the shelf near the door!" he orders, and I run off to do just that. "We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety. Dean? You with me? Dean! Before he has another fit!" Bobby snaps, breaking him of whatever spell he's under.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just get it over with!"

"Here," I walk into the room as they're carrying a struggling Sam to the bed. I hold out the cuffs and strips of fabric and Bobby takes them.

"We just gotta let him ride it out," he says, pinning Sam's arm down while Dean wraps it so they can cuff it to the bed frame. Sam fights the whole time, and I stay out of the way as they tie him down, hand covering my mouth and tears falling from my eyes.

"I wish there was something else we could do to help him," Dean admits.

"I, uh, I-I-I could try to get him some sleep," I suggest. "I could psychic link with him. He wouldn't feel a thing; humans don't have the mental walls unless they're trained to put them up themselves."

"Do it," he says instantly.

"O-okay." I walk over to Sam and climb on top of him and press my hands on either side of his face in the proper position. "Sam, look at me. It's okay, it's Hazel. I'm gonna help you, okay? Just sleep. Sleep," I whisper, and he does, eyes closing and face relaxing.

"Thank you, Hazel," Dean says, his voice choked up.

"You're welcome," I tell him, walking over to him, wrapping my arms around him, and pulling his head down to my shoulder and just holding him there. He doesn't cry, but Bobby leaves the room.

* * *

><p>Sam wakes up about three hours later, and I wish I could've given him more. He struggles against the handcuffs.<p>

"Sorry, Samster," I look at him from my spot leaning against the wall. He stops and looks at me.

"Hazel. You're okay."

"Yeah," I nod.

"We had to," Dean stands at the end on the bed and looks straight at his brother. The demon blood was flinging you all over the room."

"Nearly gave me a double heart attack," I admit.

"Tell me something, Sam. Why did you do this to yourself?"

"You _know_ why," Sam tells him.

"Right. 'Kill Lilith.' The big excuse. But why? What, revenge? Right?"

"Of course," Sam says simply.

"'Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves,'" I quote Confucius.

"What?" Dean turns to me with a confused look on his face.

"Never mind," I wave off.

"Revenge on Lilith for _what_? For sending me to Hell?" he turns back to Sam. "Did you happen to notice I'm back? Alive and kicking. So what's the point?"

"The point?" Sam scoffs. "How about stop the damn apocalypse?"

"Okay, boys, enough," I step in. "You. Out."

"Me? Why?" Dean asks.

"Because I said so. Out."

"But-"

"Out!" I order, and he does what I say, albeit unhappily. He leaves the door open and I wait until I hear him trudge up the stairs before I speak again. "Your brother means well, Samster."

"I know."

"He loves you, Sam."

"I know."

"Then do you know how much it's killing him to do this? I understand revenge, Sam. But you lose a part of you that you don't know you had until it's gone."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. Revenge, it takes over everythin', Sam."

"I have to do this."

"I'm not stoppin' you," I reassure him. "Okay? I just want you to think of the consequences of your actions."

I leave him with that and head out of the room, sealing the door shut behind me. Dean never made it up the stairs, but goes with me now.

"Dean. Look at me," I stop in the middle of the staircase and turn around. I tilt his head up so he meets my eyes. "Everything happens for a reason. Now, I don't know what the reason for this is, but we'll be okay. Do you believe me?" He tilts his head down and I move it back up. "Hey. Look at me. _Look_ at me," I stress. "We'll be okay."

"Okay," he whispers.

"Are you saying that because you believe and agree with me, or are you saying that because I want you to?"

"Do you want an honest answer to that?"

"I hate you," I smack his chest playfully.

"No, you don't," he waves off.

"I know," I smile. I take his hand and lead him up the rest of the stairs. He sits down on the sofa in Bobby's study and I grab three beers.

"I'm gonna ask one more time," Bobby says. "Are we _absolutely_ sure we're doing the right thing?"

"Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there," he argues. "The demon blood is _killing_ him."

"No, it isn't. _We_ are."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I can't bite my tongue any longer. _We're_ killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This 'cold turkey' thing isn't working. If-if he doesn't get what he needs, soon, Sam's not gonna last much longer."

If Dean's heart was visible, I am almost sure I would see it breaking.

"No," he says. "I'm not giving him demon blood. I won't do it."

"And if he dies?"

"Then at least he dies human! I would die for him in a _second_, but I won't let him do this to himself. I can't. I guess I found my line. I won't let my brother turn into a monster."

* * *

><p>After that little domestic, I forced Dean back onto the sofa and curled up next to him, using his legs as a pillow, and took a little kip. I know, I know. <em>How can you take a rest at a time like this?<em> I'm still healing! Don't blame me! Besides, he needed a bit of a break, too, I think.

"Hey!" I hear someone call. "Both of you wake up! Dean! Hazel!"

"Mmm, what is it, Bobby?" I moan, forcing my eyes open to look at him.

"Sam's gone."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC!<strong>

**Please review!**


	19. Trials pt 2

**Are all of you getting update emails? Because I'm not, and I'm the one posting the story :( usually it's within _seconds_, but not with last chapter or this one. Maybe I should email them? Idk. I'm posting this at 1:15 PST on Jan 6th, 2015 if anyone cares.**

**ONE chapter LEFT to tell me if you want a sequel or not!  
><strong>

**Yeah, okay, so I'm lumping the two episodes **When the Levee Breaks** and **Lucifer Rising** together. So, one chapter left until this story is el fin.  
><strong>

**You people want a sequel or not? Gotta tell me or you won't get one! **giddyfan** and I are friends and I have her email so maybe I'll just sent it to her because she took five seconds and asked for a sequel HINT BLOODY HINT You people want a sequel? Tell me!  
><strong>

**Sorry I'm done.**

**My cat, Zoey says hi. Baby fell asleep on my arm:D And um also my little sister is forcing me to watch **The Outsiders**. Dally's kinda a dick tbh haha but I've only seen like 10 mins of it. Someone just set fire to a church and Ponyboy's blonde that's where I'm at.  
><strong>

**ANYway, please review to tell me the chapter is awesome or to say you want a sequel!**

**Also I own nothing and this is not beta'd.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Nineteen: Trials part two<span>

"How in the hell did he get out?"

"Maybe he had help. Room full of busted devil's traps," Bobby suggests.

"Demons? Ruby," Dean connects.

"That'd be my guess."

"How did she even touch the door?"

"You think she's got the mojo?"

"I didn't think so. I don't know, man."

"Well, what difference does it make? How he got gone ain't as important as where he got gone to."

"Wonderful grammar, Bobby," I quip, and the two men glare at me. "Wow, tough crowd."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing. At this point I _hope_ he's with Ruby."

"Why?"

"'Cause killing her's the next big item on my to-do list."

"I thought you were on call for angel duty."

"I am on call. In my car, on my way to murder the bitch."

"Can I help?" I ask.

"No," Dean says, and I follow him out of the panic room.

"Why not?"

"One thing," Bobby halts us.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Sam don't want to be found. Which means he's gonna be damn near impossible to find."

"Yeah, we'll see." He heads back up the stairs, and I follow him. And where does he go? Straight to his car. He pops the hood and starts messing around with the machinery inside.

"I'm gonna go grab my laptop, okay?" I tell him. "I'll be right back."

He says nothing, but I know he heard me, so I head back inside and up the stairs to my bedroom. My laptop is waiting for me on my desk, but instead of taking it, I grab my phone and dial Tosh.

_"Hey, Hazel, how are you?"_

"I'm good, Tosh, but I need a favour. Need you to track a phone number for me," I say, carefully unwrapping the gauze from around my arm.

_"Oh, really? Why?"_

"Long story, and I really need you to not ask questions. Can you help me?" I run off the number and she types it in her computer.

_"Are you in any trouble, Hazel?"_

"No. Like I said, it's a long story, but I'm not in any sort of trouble, Toshie, believe me."

_"Um, let me see... Ah, here. It's switched off, but last place it was before being switched off was in the middle of nowhere in Jamestown, North Dakota."_

"Great. Wonderful. Thanks, Tosh." I hang up before she can say any more, grab the laptop, and head back outside. "Hey, Dean. I rang Tosh an' Sam switched his mobile off somewhere in Jamestown, North Dakota."

"Of course he did," Dean says irritatedly, screwing something in on a big chrome thing. I don't know cars, can you tell?

"So I can't track his mobile from my laptop."

"I know."

"M'sorry, Dean."

"Not your fault," he strains.

"Dean, I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"That wasn't a question, and I don't need your permission."

"Hazel-" he turns to look at me.

"I want to help you, and I don't want you to be alone right now. I am _fine_. See? Look at me. Hey," I grab his hands and put them on my shoulders. "Look for yourself, Winchester. I am _fine_ and I want to help you get Sam back an' kill hell bitch."

"How's your arm?"

"Fixed. S'not broken any more; I took the splint off a few minutes ago. Dean, I _want_ to come. Okay, I want to come with you. Please, don't shut me out. You may think that you can take the whole world on your shoulders, but you _can't_, Dean, no one can."

"Okay," he says softly, and if I didn't have my advanced hearing, I wouldn't have heard him.

"Everything's gonna work out, Dean Winchester. You'll see."

"How do you know?"

"I thought we've established that I know everything," I shoot him a tongue-in-teeth smile. "We'll get Sam back."

"Hey, kids," Bobby walks out of his house. "Police found my car. Abandoned in an alley in Jamestown, North Dakota."

"I called Tosh, she said that's where his phone was last before it was switched off."

"Yeah, he's switching up," Dean agrees. "Any other cars stolen in Jamestown?"

"Two. 1999 Honda Civic, blue. Nice and anonymous, like Sam likes," Bobby says.

"What was the other one?"

"White oh-five Escalade with custom rims. It's a neon sign."

"You're right. He'd never take that. Which is exactly what he did."

"You think?"

"I know that kid. All right, I'll head in that direction. You stay here, ride the police databases. We gotta find him quick."

"I'm coming," I insist.

"Hazel, will you please stay here?"

"Nope. You want me to stay, you'll have to pry me out of your car kickin' an' screamin'," I tell Dean, opening the passenger door and climbing in his precious car.

"Son of a bitch," I hear him swear, but he climbs in next to me and starts his car.

"Bobby, we'll keep you posted!" I call as Dean peels out of the salvage lot.

* * *

><p>No music. No distractions. Just the rumbling of the car on the road, and keys clacking furiously. And my mobile going off.<p>

"Yeah, Jack?"

_"You asked Tosh to run a phone number for you?"_

"Jack, I love you, but it's _really_ none of your business."

_"'None of my business'? Tosh is _my_ operative, Hazel."_

"And she is helping me with a project of mine. _I_ work for Torchwood, also, Jack. That means that I can take advantage of her skills, too."

_"Okay, okay. You_ do_ have a point," _his anger melts._ "Just tell me this: are you in some kind of trouble?"_

"No."

_"Are you lying to me?"_

"Uncle Jack, I have _never_ lied to you. You know that."

_"I know, munchkin. I just wanted to make sure. Stay safe. Love you."_

"Love you, too." He hangs up first and I set my phone on the seat next to me.

"Who was that?" Dean asks.

"Jack," I tell him.

"What'd he want?"

"To check on me. I asked Tosh to run Sam's number and told her to not ask questions. S'honestly none of their business."

"Thank you," he whispers.

"She must've been worried about me an' told Jack, which is why he called. But Tosh is a genius, an' she took remote access of my laptop an' set it up so if his mobile switches back on we'll know."

"Perfect." Then _his_ phone goes off and he answers it and puts it on speaker. "Bobby, what'cha got?"

_"Cops found the Escalade in a ditch outside Elk River,"_ he tells us.

"How far away are we?"

_"A couple of hours. I pulled up a weather map, made some calls. There's a town not far from there, Cold Spring. Lighting up with demon sign."_

"It's a good place to look," Dean agrees.

_"Hey, listen."_

"What?"

_"Us finding Sam? It's gotta be about getting him back, not pushing him away."_

"Right."

_"I know you're mad, Dean. I understand. You got a right to be, but I'm just saying. Be good to him anyway. You gotta get through to him."_

Dean hangs up on him. Understandable, but still.

"Dean, when was the last time you ate?" I ask.

"Doesn't matter."

"Dean," I say patiently. I know that humans, especially my Dean, can get irritable if they haven't eaten.

"I'm not stopping, Hazel. I have to get to Sam."

"If I asked you to go to a McDonalds drive-thru or something, would you?"

"No," he says, gripping the steering wheel so his fingers turn white and hitting the accelerator.

"Dean."

"Yes, Hazel?" he bites, annoyed with me.

"Never mind," I wave off. Instead, I pull out a packet of m&ms and a different one of almonds and set them on the space in between us. It takes a minute, but he does take the m&ms, and I smile to myself when he mindlessly opens the bag and starts eating them. At least my human is eating _something_. I take the almonds and munch on those as I open my laptop and see if Sam's cell is switched on.

It isn't.

"Hey, Dean? What are Sam's aliases? I could run them to see if he used any of them."

"He wouldn't use any of them. That kid don't wanna be found."

"Humour me. Please."

"Fine, uh, let me see. Uh, Agent Hamel- US Wildlife, Jerry Wanek- Homeland Security, Father Frehely, Billy Gibbons- US Marshal, Detective Dante, Police Chief Phil Jones, Jimmy Page, Detective Bachman, Sam Raimi from some sort of phone company, Wedge Antilles, Father Cheney, Agent Angus- FBI, Agent Tyler- also FBI, County Code Enforcement Officer Stanwyck, and Agent Murdock- FBI," Dean lists, and I run them in the Torchwood and UNIT databases.

"Got it! Max Bachman just rented the honeymoon suite in some motel, uh, Riverside Inn."

"Seriously?" he looks at me sceptically.

"UNIT got a hit," I say simply. "I'd show you but your driving scares me enough and I don't want to kill your night vision."

"I'm keeping you," he laughs and speeds even faster. I grip onto the seat and watch in equal parts excitement and fear as he races down the highway.

* * *

><p>"If I said this was between me and Sam-"<p>

"I am going with you inside to make sure you don't kill each other," I smile sweetly. "Hell bitch, though, you can 'ave her. I won't interfere with that."

"What if I _want_ you to interfere?"

"Then I will," I concede, and make my way out of his car and into the motel office. I ring the bell.

"Can I help you?" a teenage boy heads to the counter and eyes me up and down. _God, I hate male teenage humans._ I take a deep breath and try to deal with the fact that he's staring at me in such a way that I only like it when Dean does.

"Hi, I'm looking for the honeymoon suite. Could you maybe tell me where it is?" I ask, twirling a lock of my red hair with my fingers.

"I-I-I can't, w-we have privacy-" I lean over the counter and expose my breasts, and he sings like a canary. "Room 1003, down at the very end of the hall of rooms that way," he points, and I straighten.

"Thank you _very_ much for your cooperation," I smile and walk out of the meagre office. "I hate teenage human boys! You know what it takes them to talk? Me bendin' over the bloody counter to show off my breasts! My _god_, what is _wrong_ with your species?" I fume, and Dean just smiles. "You cut that out, Dean Winchester! It's not funny!"

"You're right, it's not," he chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "And after we're done with Sam, I'll teach that fucker a lesson. Only man that gets to look at you like that is me."

"Possessive bastard," I smile and kiss his lips. "Let's go get Sammy back, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, and I kiss him again.

"Great. Let's go."

He checks his favourite gun and, finding it completely loaded, replaces the magazine and crams it in the back of his jeans. I go in unarmed, because I want to. I lead Dean to the room and yank him out of eyesight when Sam walks out of it.

"What do you wanna do?" I whisper.

"Follow my lead," he orders just as silent. When a lift bell chimes, he looks around and then walks towards the room. The door is unlocked. Hell bitch is just standing there, packing a suitcase, and Dean springs on her with the demon-killing knife. She, unfortunately, blocks it, but that doesn't stop him. I watch with bated breath as she tries to force it out of his hand. He slams her against a wall and tries to outmatch her strength, as she has a hand on his wrist trying to stop him. Ruby shoves him away, and he springs on her again.

"No!" Sam holds him back, disarms him, and Dean lands on the bed. "Let her go!"

I tap hell bitch on the shoulder and, when she turns, punch her hard in the side of the face.

"Ow!" she moans. "You got a lotta nerve, time bitch!"

"Just take it easy," Sam orders.

"Wow, that must've been _some_ party you two had going, considering how hard you tried to keep me from crashing it," Dean frowns as he stands. "Nice right hook, Hazel."

"Thank you," I smile at him. "Always wanted to do that."

"Well, solid try, but," he turns back to his brother, "here I am."

"Dean, I'm glad you're here," Sam says. "Look, let's just talk about this."

"Soon as she's dead, we can talk all you want."

"Ruby, get out of here," Sam orders.

"She's not going anywhere," Dean steps forward, causing her to step back.

"Ah!" I grab her arm before she can escape. "Nice try."

"Hazel, please. Let her go," Sam pleads.

"No way! You two have your own vendetta against her, but this bitch tried to _kill_ me back when she was human. You know how much it hurts to regenerate, Sam? S'like everythin's on _fire_, s'like you're _burnin'_," I stress.

"Don't flatter yourself, time bitch," she scoffs. "_You_ were an assignment."

"You failed, though, didn't you?" I chuckle maliciously, and she moves to punch me. "Ow!"

"Ha, ha, time bitch, try again," she breaks my hold and darts out the door.

"Get back here, hell bitch!" I race after her, but Sam pulls me back and shuts the door. "Samuel whatever-your-second-name-is Winchester, you let me go right this second!" He stands between me and the door, giving Ruby time to escape, and I decide to stay, albeit behind Dean. "You do that again, an' I'll harm you," I threaten, pointing at him. "You may be my friend, but I am serious."

"Ruby's poison, Sam," Dean tells his younger brother.

"It's not what you think, Dean," Sam denies.

"Look what she did to you! I mean, she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit-"

"She was _looking_ for _Lilith_," he excuses.

"That is French for 'manipulating your ass ten ways from Sunday'!"

"You're _wrong_, Dean."

"Sam, you're _lying_ to yourself. I just... _want_ you to be okay. You would do the same for me. You _know_ you would."

"Just listen." Realizing that he's still holding the knife, he drops it. "Just listen, for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together."

"That sounds great. As long as it's you and me. Demon bitch is a deal-breaker. You kiss her goodbye, we can go _right_ now."

"Does Hazel get to go?" I ask.

"It's okay with me," Sam gives in. "But, Dean, we can't without Ruby."

Dean turns away.

"Dean, I _need_ her to help me kill Lilith. I know you can't wrap your head around it, but maybe, one day, you'll understand. I'm the only one who can do this, Dean."

I slap him.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"Did I smack some sense into you?" I ask.

"No, you're_ not_ the one who's gonna do this," Dean says.

"Right, that's right, I forgot. The _angels_ think it's you," Sam scoffs.

"You don't think I can?" Dean retorts.

"No. You can't. You're not strong enough."

"And who the hell are you?"

"I'm being practical here. I'm doing what needs to be done."

"Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing."

"Stop bossing me around, Dean! Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I am asking you, for once, trust _me_."

"No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam."

"Yes, I _do_."

"Then that's worse!"

"Why? Look, I'm telling you-"

"Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means-" Dean stops himself and takes a breath.

"What? No. Say it."

"It means you're a monster."

Sam nods once.

"Stop it," I order. "You guys are brothers, knock this off!"

Humans never listen! Sam punches his brother, and Dean falls on the floor.

"Stop it!" I scream, moving to intervene.

"Stay back, Hazel!" Dean orders, getting back up.

"Stay out of it, Hazel, this doesn't concern you," Sam snaps at me, and Dean punches him. God, it's like a bar fight.

"Just stop it! You're _brothers_, you're supposed to love each other!" I protest while they nearly kill each other. "I would do _anything_ to get my brother back, an' you two idiots are _beatin'_ each other to a bloody pulp? You don't know how _lucky_ you are to 'have each other!"

"Oh, yeah, _real_ lucky, Hazel," Dean groans as he kicks Sam into the other room. Sam pushes Dean against a door frame and right hooks him across the face. He punches him twice more and uses his face to shatter a mirror, and I hold back a terrorized scream. But still, he gets up, and tries to hit Sam. Sam, though blocks and pushes him through the decorative-wall-separator-thingy, and looks over at him as his big brother struggles for breath. He walks towards him and wraps his hands around his throat, and that's when I decide to intervene. It's one thing for them to them to physically work out their issues, but he's trying to kill him, dammit, and that is _my_ human. Searching around the broken room frantically, I grab one of the bigger pieces of wood and hit Sam's back with it.

"Stop!" I shout at him, striking him again. "You're gonna _kill_ 'im! Let 'im go!"

"What do you care? You're not even _human_, Hazel, why do you care about us so much? About him?" Sam asks, releasing his hold on his brother.

"I-I can't answer that. I don't-I don't know," I admit in a small voice, dropping the wood.

"It doesn't matter, 'cause you know what? Dean, you don't know me. You never did. And you never will." And with that, he climbs off his brother and towards the exit.

"You walk out that door," Dean wheezes, "don't you _ever_ come back."

Sam leaves anyway.

"Dean, hey, look at me," I order, looking into his hazel green eyes.

"You g-gotta go after him, Hazel," he coughs.

"If I leave you, I am ninety per cent sure that you will _die_, Dean!"

"J-just do it. Pl-please," he begs, and -damn me, please- I do as he asks.

"Sam!" I shout for him outside in the parking lot. "Sam! Come back! Please!" Oh my god, I _tried_, okay, now I'm going back to my human. I race back to the motel room to see Dean with his eyes closed. "Dammit, Winchester, wake up! Wake _up_! Don't you quit on me!" I shake his shoulders, kneeling down next to him. "Cassie! Castiel!" I scream towards the heavens for my angel. "Cassie! It's Dean! Oh, my god, Dean, please wake up. Please."

There's one thing I can try, and I don't care if he likes it or not. If I do this carefully and completely controlled, I won't kill him. Hell, I'm desperate. I place my hands on his chest and concentrate. Just a little bit, enough to keep his solitary heart beating and his lungs breathing. Just a little bit, enough to keep him alive, but not enough to change him. Wouldn't want him immortal, now, do we? Then he'd _definitely_ hate me.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay."

I don't know who I'm reassuring more, him or me.

* * *

><p>"Dean? Dean! You listen to a word I said?" Bobby snaps at him back at his house.<p>

"Yeah, I heard you. I'm not calling him," Dean fires right back, defeated.

"Don't make me get my gun, boy."

"We are damn near kick-off for Armageddon, don't you think we got bigger fish at the moment?" he turns from the window to look at Bobby.

"I know you're pissed. And I'm not making apologies for what he's done, but he's your-"

"Blood? He's my blood, is that what you were gonna say?"

"He's your brother. And he's drowning."

"Bobby, I tried to help him, I did. Look what happened."

"So _try again_."

"It's too late."

"There's no such thing."

"No, dammit! No. We gotta face the facts. Sam never _wanted_ part of this family. He _hated_ this life growing up. Ran away to Stanford first chance he got. Now it's like déjà vu all over again." He sits down. "Well, I am sick and tired of chasing him. Screw him, he can do what he wants."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do, Bobby. Sam's gone. He's _gone_. I'm not even sure if he's still my brother, any more. If he _ever_ was."

Bobby takes a few deep breaths before shoving everything off his desk and standing toe-to-toe to Dean.

"You stupid, _stupid_ son of a bitch!" Bobby tears into him. "Well, boo hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, _princess_! Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good? Make you an apple pie, maybe? They're _supposed_ to make you miserable! That's why they're _family_!"

"I told him, 'You walk out that door, don't come back,' and he _walked_ out anyway! That was _his_ choice! Hell, he left me for _dead_!"

"You sound like a whiny _brat_," Bobby accuses, and Dean scoffs, brushing past him and towards the window. "No," he corrects himself. "You sound like you dad. Well, let me tell you something- your _dad_ was a _coward_."

"My dad was a lot of things, Bobby, but a _coward_?" he turns back.

"He'd rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don't strike me as brave. _You_ are a better man than your daddy _ever_ was. So you do both of us a favour- don't be _him_."

"Dean," I call his name in a small voice, and his head snaps over to my curled up form on Bobby's sofa (I'm sitting up with my head on my knees and my feet on the couch). "I would give _everything_, do an_ything_, to get my brother back. An' _you're_ pushin' yours _away_. I just- I don't- make me understand, Dean. _Help me_ to understand," I request, standing and walking towards him to wrap my arms around his waist. "Help me understand."

"He... Hazel, he _betrayed_ me," he insists. "You _saw_ what he did, he beat the _shit_ out of me."

"An' you're pissed at 'im, an' I get it, but how can you push 'im away like tha'? No one is sayin' tha' you can't be pissed. Lookit, all m'sayin' is, he's the only family you've got left, right?" I ask, and he nods. "Okay, then why are you pushin' 'im away?"

"He _almost killed_ me," he insists.

"But _he's_ your _brother_," I mock his tone. "He is _always_ gonna be on your team, okay?"

"Well, he sure as hell ain't now."

"That's because you two are fightin'. If you weren't, would he have your back?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" I crack a small smile.

"Yeah, you're right," he gives in.

"M'always right, remember?"

He leans in to kiss me and I close my eyes, but I never feel his lips on mine.

"Balls!" I hear Bobby say.

"Where'd he go?" I whirl around and demand. "Castiel, you son of a bitch! You just got on my bad list! You bring him back to me!"

I'm gonna kill him.

* * *

><p><strong>Aliases taken from supernaturalwiki (take out this space) .com and someone tell me if theyre wrong because from the way its written i think its right and um please review?<br>**

The Outsiders** is effing depressing what the hell dammit marmalitado (my nickname for the brat) i will cut you (our typical not-threat)  
><strong>

**Who wants a sequel? Tell me!**


	20. Trials pt 3

**A/N at bottom this time!:) Have fun reading and please review, even if it's last chapter!**

**I own nothing except Hazel and a 'Carry On My Wayward Son' t-shirt. :( sad day.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty: Trials part three<span>

"I'm gonna bloody _kill_ Castiel," I fume, typing frantically into my vortex manipulator. "_Kill_ him!"

"How do you even kill an angel?" Bobby asks.

"Oh, I have my ways, Uncle Bobby. I've got all the anger of the Oncoming Storm and all the power of the Bad Wolf runnin' amok through my veins; I'll sever his bloomin' timeline. That'll kill pretty much anythin'. Son of a bitch! I can't find his bloody cell phone _anywhere_; there must be some sort of signal blocking it."

"Okay, then, Hazel, let's be rational, here. We obviously don't know where those bastards took him."

"Oh, but I can find out," I beam, darting over to him and grasping his arms. "I can find out!"

"How?" he asks as I release him and programme my wrist strap.

"There are other ways to finding someone than their mobile phones. Angels give off a specific energy signature. My and the Brigadier of UNIT _both_ owe me favours. I'll just skip along to My's office; last I checked he loves me, an' he secretly runs the British government."

"Well, great, what's _he_ gonna do?"

"_He_ is going to make sure that _UNIT_ does what they're told."

"You're going _back_ there? Are you insane?"

"Quite possibly; but that's not the point. Torchwood doesn't have the capabilities of trackin' it, an' if they hack into UNIT, they'll get punished. I'll make My go with me an' meet up with Martha."

"Just don't... don't let those sons of bitches touch you, get me?"

"Promise, Bobby," I smile more calmly. "I'll get him back. I'll get them _both_ back." Then I disappear from his sight.

* * *

><p>"Hiya, My-My," I beam as he walks into his office, startling him. I hop off his desk. "I need a favour."<p>

"When did you get a tattoo?" he asks, shutting the door.

"My, god, I've had this for months, pay attention," I joke, knowing very well how much he pays attention. Quite brilliant, for a human, the perceptiveness he and his brother share. "Did you hear? I need a favour. S'very important."

"Hazel, when you ask me for a favour," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "it's _usually_ simple. I'm getting the feeling it is not so this time."

"Got me," my smile drops. "I need you to take me to UNIT."

"Why on _earth_ would you want me to take you _there_?" he asks in disbelief.

"Because _you're_ the British government!"

"I occupy a minor position," he protests.

"Your brother and I disagree, okay, now just listen to me. Please. I need to get to UNIT because they can track a specific type of energy that Torchwood can't."

"What kind?"

"Artron energy. Their-their satellites, they can track it."

"Why do you need to track that?"

"If I tell you," I walk towards him and look up so I can see his face, "you 'ave to keep it a secret."

He sighs.

"Tell me in the car. Let's go."

"Really?" I beam.

"Really. Let's go."

"Love you, My-My," I tell him as he opens his office door and ushers me out.

"Don't call me that. Anthea!" he calls. "Get the car; we're going to UNIT headquarters."

"Okay," the woman looks up from her mobile phone and follows My through the building and out the door.

"You don't want to know why?" I ask the woman.

"I go where Mr Holmes tells me," she says simply, pointing out the car and climbing in. Then, once she's seated, she's back on her phone. I think I might like her, but I'm not quite sure just yet.

"Okay, now tell me," My orders.

"Are you- will she?"

"Everything we say stays in this car," he promises me. So I tell him the gist of it.

"I need to track an angel."

"An... angel. Like the Weeping ones?"

"No, like Biblical ones."

"Those _exist_?"

"Yeah, but they're not halo-wearin' nice people that're supposed to bow down to humanity; they're _dicks_. With wings that you cannot see, and true voices you cannot hear. The ones I've met, they just don't _care_."

"Why do you need to find one?"

"Besides the fact he took somethin' from me?"

"You're elaboratin' about that in a moment," he interrupts.

"I-may-or-may-not-be-in-a-romantic-relationship-with-a-human-but-that's-not-the-point," I say rapidly, hoping he understood none of that.

"You're in a _what_?" _Dammit._

"Oh m'god, you're not m'mum, okay? That's not the point! The point is, they're tryin' to start the bloomin' Apocalypse! I just- I need to find this particular angel, okay? How I stay on this planet without bein' hunted down by UNIT is because I work for them. But there's about two people that like that fact: Martha Jones an' Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. The others hate me, tolerate me, or experimented on me; which is why I need your help, My. They'll listen to you."

"Okay," he says simply. "I'm not thrilled that you're _dating_, though."

"I'm ninety-seven years old, you dolt. M'old enough to be your grandmum, an' you don't like me 'dating'?" I chuckle, rolling my eyes. "Never change, My."

"I'll try my best," he smiles at me, and the car pulls to a slow stop.

_I can do this._ I take a deep breath and follow them out of the car, tuning out the scared little girl in my head screaming at me to run. My opens the door and I follow him into the office building and stride over to the desk.

"I need to speak with Dr Martha Jones," I inform the woman wearing a headpiece at the desk.

"Name?"

"Hazel."

"Do you have an appointment, Hazel?" she asks without looking up from her computer.

"I don't need one."

"To see Dr Jones, you need an appointment."

"Stacey," My clears his throat, intervening.

"M-Mr Holmes," she stutters, and I smile cruelly. What? I hate this place. "C-Can I ask why you're here?"

"_We_ are here to see Dr Martha Jones, as Hazel said. Now _call_ her. _Now_."

"Y-yes, sir," she reaches for the phone, clearing her throat. "Can you send Dr Jones up to the front desk, please? It's urgent. Yes, thank you." She hangs up the phone with shaky hands. "She'll be here in a couple minutes, Mr Holmes."

"Thank you, Stacey," My smiles politely, then leads me to a bench and makes me sit down.

"Mycroft, I am not a child," I protest.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks softly.

"You can if you want, but I think I'll be okay. I just needed a way in."

"So, I was a means to an end?" he smiles.

"Of course!" I scoff playfully, then turn serious. "You know I love you, My."

"You know I love you, too," he kisses my forehead, and I let him. "Are you sure? You're shaking."

"I'm fine," I wave off. "I have to do this."

"What's so special about this human?"

"I-I can't explain it, My. I just- he's special. He makes me do stupid, reckless things that I don't regret an' he's taken to callin' me 'princess'," I smile. "He lets me pick the music in his car an' buys me milkshakes. He got me this necklace," I pull it out of my shirt, "an' bought it the hard way instead of committin' credit card fraud."

"I'm almost afraid to know what the 'hard way' is."

"Hustlin' pool," I beam fondly. "He's good at it, too."

A lift chimes, and Martha walks out.

"Martha!" I smile, hopping up and darting to hug her.

"Cara?" she asks in disbelief, hugging me back. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

"Hullo, Martha. I need your help."

"_My_ help? With what?"

"You seem to be okay, Hazel, but, unfortunately, I have other things to do today," My says, standing.

"Mycroft Holmes?" Martha gasps. "What are _you_ doin' here?"

"Making sure the child gets what she wants."

"Oi!" I protest, and he smiles. "What did I just tell you?"

"You stay safe, you understand me? And call me once you get him back."

"I will," I promise, letting him hug me. "Have fun runnin' Great Britain!" I wave as he leaves.

"Minor position!" he retorts, walking out the door, his assistant following.

"Cara, seriously, what are you doing here? An' how do you know Mr Holmes?" Martha asks, her hands on my shoulders.

"I've chosen a name, actually. I'm Hazel, now. An' My is an old friend of mine."

"Okay, Hazel, then. What's wrong?"

"I need to access your satellites. Can you take me to your hub?"

"Sure, come on, sweetheart." Martha doesn't ask any more questions and leads me to a lift. "You've got your badge?"

"In my purse."

"Perfect, come on." She hits a button and the doors close. "Okay, now spill."

"I need to trace a specific trace of artron energy."

"Why?"

"I need to find an angel."

"A Weeping one?"

"A Christian one. Biblical one."

"Seriously? _Those_ exist, too?"

"Oh, Martha, you wouldn't _believe_ the shit I've had to deal with," I chuckle.

"Okay, so, angels," she says slowly. "Wait, did you get a tattoo?"

"Long story, another time," I wave off. Probably a bad idea to wear a v-neck, but Dean likes me in them. Plus, I stole one of his plaid flannel shirts to have something on my arms, and my shredded jeans with black leggings to match my black biker boots.

"W-what can artron energy do?"

"Angels give off a specific trail of artron energy. If I can use the satellites, I can pick up the energy trace and track this son of a bitch."

"Oh, so we're mad?"

"We're _pissed_."

"What did this particular angel do, Miss Hazel?"

"This particular angel took something from me, Dr Jones."

"Actually, I married Mickey. M'Dr Smith-Jones now."

"An' I wasn't invited to the weddin'? How dare you!"

Martha just laughs. "M'sorry, sweets." The lift doors open and I let her take my hand and lead me through the halls until we hit what reminds me as a computer lab.

"What's this?" I ask curiously.

"The satellites," she smiles. "Oi!" she calls, getting everyone's attention. "You are to do _everythin'_ this woman says, understand?"

"Ooh, Martha Smith-Jones has power," I chuckle. "Okay, I need access to the satellites!" I order. "Specifically the ones that track artron energy!"

"Why are you just sittin' there? Move!" Martha snaps, and they do. There's about five of them on a small room with a bajillion screens. Okay, like thirty.

"D-do you need to track a specific trace, ma'am?" a woman asks.

"Just plug in my wrist strap an' you'll get the signal," I tell her, offering the strap for her to take. "Careful with it, though, yeah? Tha's my ticket outta here."

"Yes, ma'am," she says.

"Ooh, check me out, Martha, I'm a 'ma'am' now," I smile as she plugs me into her computer.

"Pinpointing location now," one of the men says. One of the bigger monitors shows a map that keeps searching and zooming in.

"Got it! The energy is focused in Van Nuys, California."

"You've _got_ to be jokin'," I say incredulously. "Van Nuys?"

"Yes, ma'am," a fourth one confirms. "Some abandoned warehouse in Van Nuys, California."

"Great. Wonderful. Thank you, and good-bye. Martha, I'll call," I vow, giving her one last embrace. "I'll explain everythin' later, but I've got to go. An' don't worry! I've a plan!"

"Stay safe!" she calls as I vanish.

* * *

><p>Abandoned warehouse, yes. How close I am to it, no. I can see it in the distance, about half a mile away. Damn piece of shit vortex manipulator! I start mentally cursing it out as I run. <em>No good, piece of shit, fails in life, my <em>god_ I hate this thing!_ I think about yanking it off and throwing it into a ditch, but I know that I was miss it too much. It may be crappy, but it works, _most_ of the time. I resolve to repair it _completely_ when this whole shit storm is over.

Hazel Marie is _not happy_. Hazel Marie is plotting _murder_. Hazel Marie may have loved Castiel the angel, but Castiel has _changed_. Castiel has taken her human. The angels better have not harmed her human, or blood will be _shed_.

Okay, third-person done now.

Seriously, though, Dean Winchester has become my human. He has been my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first time, and he treats me like no other person (human or not) has. He takes care of me. He spoils me. He just... oh, how do I explain it? He's just _there_.

For all the lives in me, I can't think of the word to describe it!

It's... it's kinda like Amy and Rory, almost. They're best friends, and they're married. They love each other. Obviously, Dean and I aren't married, and I'm not sure if he loves me (mister I-don't-like-moments-or-feelings), but we just _work_.

All too soon, I'm at the warehouse, and two angels grab me.

"Oh," I smile breathlessly. "Hello. Take me to your leader."

One of them looks at the other in disbelief.

"Oh, come now. You think I was jokin'? You've captured the alien mutt! You'll most likely be rewarded for this!" I try to reassure them. "Go on, now. Take me to your leader!"

They both shrug and, picking me up by my arms, carry me into the warehouse and towards a separate room, lifting me higher and literally tossing me on my ass.

"Ow!" I protest. "Bit _rude_!"

"Hazel?" I hear Dean say my name, and I immediately go to him.

"Oh, my god, I'm so glad you're okay!" I exclaim, embracing him tightly.

"I-I'm fine, how did you get here?"

"Skilfully," I tell him. "Would've been here sooner, but somethin's blockin' the mobile phone signals; couldn't find you."

"How _did_ you find me?"

"Searched a specific kind of energy, called artron energy. Angels have it. Castiel is here, somewhere, an' I owe him a slap."

"You're awesome," he laughs. "You know that?"

"Yeah, I know," I smile, and he hugs me again.

"You, uh, asked to see me?" Castiel appears, and if not for Dean's grip on my arm, Cas's neck would be broken by my hand.

"You're a bastard," I inform the angel.

"I know," he gives in.

"If Dean were to let me go, I'd probably kill you," I say honestly, and he nods sadly. "I was in the _middle_ of a _conversation_, and you _took_ my human from me. M'not real thrilled with you, mister."

"I know."

"'Your' human?" Dean spins me around to look at me.

"You're not the only one who's possessive, Winchester." He winks at that before turning back to Cas.

"Hey, Cas, I, uh, I need something," he admits.

"Anything you wish," Cas says.

"I need you to take me to see Sam."

"Why?"

"There's something I got to talk to him about."

"What's that?"

"The B.M. I took this morning," he says sarcastically. "What's it to you? Just make it snappy."

"I don't think that's wise."

"Well, I didn't ask you for your opinion."

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time you met?"

"No. That's the whole point. Listen, I'm gonna do whatever you mooks want, okay? I just need to tie up this one thing. Five minutes- that's all I need," he pleads.

"No," Cas refuses him.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Are you saying that I'm trapped here?"

"You can go wherever you want."

"Super; I want to go see Sam."

"Except there."

"I want to take a walk."

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"Just with Hazel."

"No."

"You know what? Screw this noise. I'm out of here. C'mon, Hazel." Dean pulls on me gently towards the door, passing Cas.

"Through what door?" he retorts.

And the damn thing disappears, replaced by a blank wall and three lit candles.

"Fine. Hazel, can you get me out of here?"

"There's somethin' blockin' vortex manipulator signals, too," I say apologetically. "M'sorry."

Cas disappears, and Dean swears.

* * *

><p>"I'm bored," I tell him about an hour later.<p>

"Yeah, me too. You know what we could do to pass the time?" he suggests.

"We are not having sex when they could pop in at any moment," I quickly shoot down the motion, and he groans. "You could try to call Sam."

"How can I do that; my phone doesn't work."

"Universal roaming, mine does. Here," I unlock my phone and switch over to the dial pad, then hand it over to him. He dials Sam's number and it goes to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me. Uh," he clears his throat. "Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed... and I owe you a serious beat down. But... I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers. You know, we're family. And, uh... no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean hangs up the phone and hands it back to me. "Thank you, Hazel."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I smile warmly at him, then turn playful, sliding onto the floor and crossing my legs. "Truth or dare?"

"What?" he scoffs. "I'm not playing some school yard game, Hazelnut."

"Truth or dare?" I repeat.

"You're not gonna give it up, are you?"

"Nosir, truth or dare?"

He groans but gives in. "Fine, uh, truth."

"When did you learn to shoot?"

"Um, when I was... six or seven," he answers, copying my position and sitting down facing me. "Truth or dare."

"Truth," I tell him.

"How did you get here?"

"You want the specifics?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, first I went to London to see a friend of mine, Mycroft Holmes. He has a lot of power, and his brother and I believe he secretly runs Great Britain, no matter how much he protests to occupy a minor position; he's full of shit. Anyway, I told him that he owed me a favour and he took me to UNIT-"

"He did _what_?"

"Dean, what's the big deal? Yeah, I hate UNIT with both my hearts, but I wouldn't have gone unless it was necessary. Torchwood doesn't have the satellites that UNIT does, otherwise I would've gone there."

"Yeah, okay, continue."

"My took me to UNIT _because I asked him to_, an' we met up with Martha Jones (who's Martha Smith-Jones because she got married without me). My left because he had other things to take care of so Martha took me to where they control the satellites. Tracked the signal that I copied using my vortex manipulator, appeared about a half-mile away, got captured by two angels that brought me here after I told them to take me to their leader." He snickers at that last part. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Oh, you're no fun. Okay, uh... what do you wanna do after this whole shit storm is over?"

"Have my wicked way with my girlfriend," he says seductively, and I push back on his shoulder. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to take that figurine-thing on that table and smash it," he points. I stand and walk over to the table, pick up the figure, and hurl it across the room where it hits the wall and shatters in a million pieces.

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

I smile evilly. "I dare you to break things with me!"

"Now _that_ is something I can do," he beams. He stands and takes a painting off the wall and breaks the frame, tossing it onto the floor. I take the bowl of beers on ice, carry it to the middle of the room and drop it unceremoniously, and the bottles shatter.

"This is fun," I smile at him.

"Yeah, it is," he smiles back despite the situation. "You think we could try breaking through where the door was?"

"We could _try_; I don't think it would work, though."

"Let's try, anyway," he suggests, and I'm all for it. He picks up a pedestal, letting the porcelain object clatter and break on the wooden floor, and starts beating at where the door used to be.

"You got your gun?" I ask as he inadvertently flaunts his toned arm muscles. He hands it to me without a word, and I have him step back before I fire at the wall. The bullet does no damage and instead ricochets across the room. "Get down!" I order, yanking him down and staring intently at the bullet as it bounces from wall to wall in attempts to slow it down. It falls to the floor. "Okay, so, maybe bad idea," I pant.

"You okay?"

"Perfect, what about you?"

"Fine," he tells me. "We're never gonna get out of here, are we?"

"We'll get out when they want us out," I inform him sadly.

"Son of a bitch," he swears.

"Quit hurling faeces like a howler monkey, would you? It's unbecoming," a different angel -one I've never met- appears, and Dean yanks me behind him as we stand.

"Who are you?" I ask, holding tight to Dean's hand but refusing to stay behind him.

"Zachariah," Dean says, informing me and getting his attention. "Let us out of here."

"The Time brat is here as a sign of good will; she can leave any time she wants. You, on the other hand... too dangerous out there. Demons on the prowl."

"What, you think I'm just gonna leave 'im here with _you_ dicks with wings?" I retort.

"I've heard Time Lords were possessive," he merely laughs. "Protective, too."

"_You_ didn't bring me here, I brought _m'self_," I add, and his face hardens.

"Yes, but I can hurl you to the bottom of the ocean unless you behave."

"Look, I've been getting my ass kicked all year! Now you're sweating my safety? You're lying. I want to see my brother," Dean demands.

"That's... ill-advised."

"You know, I am so sick of your _crap_ riddles and your smug, fat face. What the _hell_ is going on, huh? Why can't I see Sam? And how am I gonna ice Lilith?"

"You're _not_," he admits, "going to 'ice' Lilith."

"What?" Dean asks incredulously.

"Lilith's going to break the final seal. _Fait accompli_ at this point. Train's left the station."

"But me and Sam and Hazel, we can stop-" he cuts himself off as the angel takes a seat on the sofa. "You don't _want_ to stop it, do you?"

"Nope. Never did. The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theatre near you."

"What was all that crap about saving seals?"

"Our grunts on the ground- we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let sixty-five seals get broken unless senior management _wanted_ it that way?"

"But why?"

"Why not? The apocalypse? Poor name, bad marketing- puts people off. When all it is is Ali/Foreman. On a, slightly larger scale. And we like our chances. When our side wins -and we will- it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?"

"What about the humans?" I speak up. "The _planet_. The _good_ people that live here, what about them?"

"Well, you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case... _truckloads_ of eggs, but you get the picture. Look," he stands and walk towards us, "it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered," he waves off.

Dean looks at a statue.

"Uh, no, Dean. Probably shouldn't try to bash my skull in with that thing. Wouldn't end up too pleasant for you."

"You touch 'im, and I'll sever your timeline," I threaten, and he merely smiles.

"What about Sam? He won't go quietly. He'll stop Lilith," Dean says.

"Sam... has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it," Zachariah says simply.

"What does that mean? What are you gonna do to him?"

"Sam, Sam, Sam. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns."

"Hand off," I order, and he immediately removes his hand from my boyfriend's shoulder.

"Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still _vital_, Dean. We weren't lying about your destiny. Just... omitted a few pertinent details. But nothing's changed. You _are_ chosen. You will stop it. Just... not Lilith, or the apocalypse. That's all."

"Which means?"

"Lucifer. You're going to stop Lucifer. You're our own little Russell Crowe, complete with surly attitude. And when it's over -and when you've won- your rewards will be... unimaginable. Peace, happiness... two virgins and seventy sluts." He chuckles. "Trust me- one day, we'll look back on this and laugh."

"Tell me something. Where's God in all this?"

"God? God has left the building."

"Oh, so this is some big temper tantrum, then, yeah?" I smile innocently, and the douche angel nearly growls before vanishing.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swears.

"He'll be back," I say darkly. "Oh, he'll be back."

* * *

><p>"I Spy with my little eye-"<p>

"The pedestal. I Spy with my little-"

"The painting. I Spy with my-"

"The chair. I Spy with-"

"I fucking hate this game."

"We've been playing for an hour, what d'ya expect?" I moan. "Bored!"

"Not the only one!" Dean retorts. "You don't deal with boredom well, missy."

"Don't call me that."

"Truth or dare?"

"Now who's playing the school yard game?"

"You wanna play or not?"

"Fine. Dare."

"I dare you to come get your sweet ass in my lap and sit with me."

"I'm not having sex in here with you," I inform him.

"I don't care about that right now, come on."

I sigh and wander over to my man and plop down in his lap on the floor, immediately snuggling into his embrace.

"Dean Winchester doesn't care about having sex with his girlfriend?" I taunt good-naturedly, and he shushes me.

"Why is it that you always calm down when we're touching?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say honestly, smiling up at him. "You just have that kind of effect on me, Dean Winchester. You've got a hold on me."

"I think I like that."

"I think you like that a bit too much," I joke. "I also think you like me in your lap a bit too much."

"Nah, babe, I'm just happy to see you," he winks at me, and I roll my eyes.

"Sap," I accuse.

"Only for you."

"I like the way that sounds," I admit, and his smile grows.

"Can I borrow your phone again? I gotta call Sam."

"My phone's dead because you burned up the battery callin' 'im earlier."

He swears and futilely pulls out his own, dialling the number over and over again but getting only static.

"You can't reach him, Dean," Castiel appears, and I scowl at him. "You're outside your coverage zone.

"You better be here to either bust us out or to apologise," I warn.

"You can leave any time you choose," he says stupidly.

"D'you _honestly_ think that I would leave him here with you, Castiel?"

"No," he says sadly.

"Yeah, hi, I may be human, but I don't need to be coddled," Dean speaks up.

"M'not _coddlin'_ you, m'just not gonna leave you here with them. I _know_ what they're capable of. There's books in the TARDIS library that reveal what they're truly like, Dean."

"Dicks with wings," he agrees, then stands and faces Castiel. "What're you gonna do to Sam?"

"Nothing. He's gonna do it to _himself_."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cas doesn't answer him. "Oh, right, right. Got to toe the company line." He moves away from me to stand face-to-face with my old friend. "Why are you here, Cas?"

"We've been through much together, you and I, and I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this."

"'Sorry'?" he scoffs, then punches Cas so hard his head snaps to the side. He flexes his hand and grimaces in pain. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than 'sorry'."

"Try to understand- this is long foretold. This is your-"

"Destiny? Don't give me that 'holy' crap. Destiny, God's plan... it's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People. Families- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?"

"What is so worth saving?" Cas retorts. "I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam."

"But not with Hazel. She's not allowed up there, is she? You angels hate her." Cas says nothing to that, not having an answer. "You know what? You can take your peace, and shove it up your lily-white ass."

"Cas, let me tell you somethin' about humans," I intervene, carefully taking Dean's hand in mine and checking for breaks as I speak. "Yeah, I'll admit, some of 'em aren't great. They all can have their moments. But they all have this-this _desire_ to explore. Out of all the creatures and species I've seen, I'm always drawn back to humans, an' you wanna know why? They're so _unique_, Castiel. Only species in the whole universe that goes camping. They're stubborn, an' they always see patterns in things that aren't there. An' you know what? There is _no_ such thing as an ordinary human."

"Cas, I'll take the pain," Dean says. "And the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. This is simple, Cas!" he raises his voice as Castiel turns his back. "No more shit about being a good soldier! There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it! Look at me!" Dean snaps, forcibly turning him around. "You _know_ it! Now, you were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to bible camp. Help me- now. Please."

Castiel takes a deep breath. "Is this what you meant, Cara? About humans?"

"I told you they were stubborn," I smile fondly. "My Dean especially so. Gutsy, too."

He nods once, then turns back to Dean. "What would you have me do?"

"Get us to Sam," he replies instantly. "We can stop this before it's too late."

"This isn't fixed time, Castiel, this can be changed. The writings an' sayin's and the 'long foretold'-ness of it all never specified when," I add.

"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll _all_ be killed," he stresses.

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it," Dean says before giving up and walking away from the angel. "You spineless, soulless son of a bitch! What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done."

"Dean-"

"We're _done_!" he snaps.

Cas is gone by the time I reach my man and I wrap my arms tightly around him.

* * *

><p>"Pacin' never solved anythin'," I call cheekily from my curled up spot in the chair.<p>

"It calms me down!" he snaps unconvincingly.

"Really?"

"Shut up," Dean growls, and I chuckle. "Quit droppin' the 'g's and say the whole word, it's annoying."

"I thought you loved my accent," I play around, knowing he doesn't mean it and is just pissed with the situation.

"Not right now, I don't." He angrily picks up a burger, and, before taking a bite, Castiel appears again, yanking him by the shoulder and slamming him against the wall, covering his mouth and drawing a blade.

"Castiel, what the bloody hell are you doing?" I shout at him, immediately rising and darting over there. He lets him go and slices his own arm, blood dripping and pouring from the wound. Dean steps back and assures me he's fine as Cas draws what looks to me like the angel banishing sigil on the wall. "Oh, you sneaky bastard," I whisper with a smile on my face.

"Castiel!" Zachariah snaps, dropping in and walking towards us. "Would you mind explaining just what the hell you're doing?" Cassie slams his hand on the wall, and bright light flashes from the dick with wings.

"Bye, bye," I wave as he disappears. "Oh, Cassie, I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"He won't be gone long," he warns. "We have to find Sam _now_."

"Where is he?" Dean asks.

"I don't know. But I know who _does_. We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."

"But Lilith's gonna break the final seal."

"Oh, my god," I gasp, and Dean turns to me as I connect the dots. "Lilith _is_ the final seal, isn't she, Cassie?"

"She dies, the end begins," he confirms. "Let's go." He touches Dean's forehead and my vortex manipulator and we're out of that damn room. Finally!

* * *

><p>"Lady, sometime you gotta live like there's no tomorrow," Chuck says into the phone as we arrive. "Wait, t-t-this isn't supposed to happen."<p>

"Chuck. What are you orderin'?" I ask.

_"Sir?"_

"No, lady this is _definitely_ supposed to happen, but I just got to call you back." He hangs up the cordless phone and looks at us in shock. "I-"

"Are you orderin' _hookers_ on the _phone_?"

"I-I-I," he stutters before Dean cuts him off.

"Where's Sam?"

"Uh, uh, let me check," Chuck says, walking frantically to his desk and rifling through pages. "Here," he produces some and hands them to Dean.

"Skim it, don't read ahead," I order.

"I know. St. Mary's? What is that, a convent?"

"Yeah, but you guys aren't supposed to be there," Chuck tells us. "You're not in this story."

"Yeah, well, we're making it up as we go," Castiel admits, and I smile. My smile quickly drops, however, when I hear that familiar whine and see that familiar white light and feel that familiar ground-shaking that happened when we were in a motel room, before the Shadow Proclamation came knocking. I swear in Gallifreyan.

"Aww, man! Not again! No!" Chuck moans.

"It's the archangel!" Cas shouts. "I'll hold him off; I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

"Cassie, you can't do that, you'll be killed!" I protest. "Cassie, no-"

* * *

><p>Dean and I are in the convent, and I mentally curse out that stubborn angelic friend of mine.<p>

"C'mon, we gotta get to Sam," he orders, heading down a hall. I follow him and stop abruptly when I see Sam and Ruby's backs down a different corridor.

"Sam! Don't kill her; she's the final seal!" I scream as Ruby uses her powers to seal the doors. I dart over with Dean on my heels and start pounding on it. "Sam! Samster!"

"Sam!" Dean shouts, banging on the wood right next to me. "Sam! Sammy! Sam!" I pull out my sonic and try futilely to open the doors.

"This thing needs a damn wood setting!" I fume, jamming it back in my pocket. "Sam, she's the final seal! Lilith's the final seal!"

"Sammy!" he yells. I can hear Ruby screaming but I can't make out what she's saying, but vow to myself that she won't make it out of here alive.

"Sam, no!"

Then it falls silent.

"Dean, you gotta break down the door," I tell him.

"No shit," he snaps, darting off only to grab a candelabra to be used as a battering ram. He starts slamming it against the door, over and over, weakening it with every hit. It takes him a while, too long, so I take it from him and hold it like a baseball bat, then beat on the door that way, using one of the sharp corners to impact. "That's not working, give it back."

He takes it from my hands and, with three more hits of his own, the door swings open.

Hell bitch is kneeling next to Sam on the floor, and I see red.

"You're too late," she taunts, stopping Dean in his tracks and throwing him against a wall with her abilities. She pins Sam on the floor so he can't move, either.

"Oi, hell bitch," I call, and she turns to look at me.

"Gonna try to kick my ass, time bitch?"

"I've somethin' even better up my sleeve," I taunt, blinking and letting my eyes shine with all the energy and power of the Bad Wolf. _I really love my mum right now._ "Guess what I can do, hell bitch?"

"You can't do a damn thing, you weak little girl."

"Oh, yeah?" I cock my head and smile darkly. "Freeze."

My smile grows when my boys are released and she's just standing there, unable to move a single muscle.

"She's not going anywhere," I inform them.

"Hazel, what are you doing?" Dean asks.

"I'm _holding_ her, now don't just stand there! Kill the bitch!"

Dean springs into action, walking swiftly over to Ruby and stabbing her with the demon knife. My hold on her evaporates as he twists the knife in her side and she groans. Orange light flickers from her whole body, and she slumps on the floor, dead. He yanks the knife out as she falls and wipes it clean on his jeans.

"Bad idea," I slump to my knees, holding my head and desperately drawing breath into my lungs, "but _so_ fulfilling."

"Hazel, you okay?"

"Don't touch me just yet, sweetheart," I warn when I feel him close.

"I'm sorry," I hear Sam say, his voice breaking. The ground starts to rumble, and light peers in through the blood circle on the floor.

"Sammy, Hazel, let's go," Dean orders, helping me up as we head to the door.

"Dean, he's coming!" Sam states the obvious as the door seals shut, preventing us from leaving.

"Oh, not this again!" Dean groans.

I hear the homely engine sounds of the TARDIS, and can't hold back a sigh of relief when it appears.

"Everyone in! Come on!" I order, darting to her doors. Once we're all inside, I slam them shut (eliciting a mental growl of annoyance from the old girl) and slide down on my bum. "Oh, Jesus Christ, never again," I pant, hands on my hearts to try to calm them down.

"Who are you three?" a British woman I've never met before snaps, and my eyes dart open to look at her in shock.

* * *

><p><strong>There you have it! A wonderful (I think) last chapter to <strong>Hunters and Time**. The next story will be called **Somebody to You**, and will be posted when I finish the first chapter. Few days, week tops? I'll post a little note on this story when it's up, but I still suggest following me (alyssianagrace) (hi) so you can get the story link in your emails instead of searching for it.**

**Also, did you like the little **Sherlock** bit? So sorry, couldn't help myself! More will be elaborated on how she knows Mycroft and Sherlock (eventually muhaha). Oh my god I have such a high right now, and I haven't even posted it yet! hehe i'm very happy if you can't tell.  
><strong>

**Many thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed my story! Special thanks to **giddyfan**, who reviewed every freaking chapter! Oh my god I love her. She's totally awesome, if you were wondering. Go check her out while you're waiting for a sequel!  
><strong>

**Good bye, and thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope it was as fun for you as it was for me.**

**all my love,**

** alyssianagrace**


	21. Sequel's up!

**Hey, guys, the sequel's up! Go check out my page and read the first chapter of **Somebody to You**!**


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